Punching in a dream
by Felix Felicius
Summary: After being told he can't go to Stanford, Sam is found with his wrists slit in an apparent suicide attempt. Only thing is, he doesn't remember doing it.
1. Chapter 1: Road full of promise

Written for the Sam Winchester big bang 2015 challenge

**See** the amazing artwork by winchesterchola here: winchesterchola . tumblr post/109583185759/punching-in-a-dream-art-post

**Watch** the "movie trailer" here: www . youtube watch?v=E9jnnrEFmOM&amp;feature=youtu . be

**Listen** to the "soundtrack" here: 8tracks felixfelicius/punching-in-a-dream

Warnings: Suicide attempt/suicidal thoughts/minor drug use

* * *

**Chapter 1: Road full of promise**

The blessed sound of a ringing bell filled the air. All around him, antsy teenagers quickly gathered their school things and made for the door like their life depended on it. He however, moved more purposefully, putting away his things in an orderly manner. He pulled on his coat and stood up, swinging his backpack on his back.

"Sam," a voice called out from behind him.

It was Cooper, a tall clean cut sort of guy, with a penchant for hoodies and a serious gaze. Their English teacher said the other boy was having trouble with his essay writing and needed a little help to pass the class.

Writing came easy to Sam, and his grades showed. So it had been a no-brainer for the teacher for pair them up. They had been meeting after school in the library twice a week for the past two weeks.

"We're still on for tomorrow right?"

Sam nodded with a polite smile then continued on his way out of the room. Cooper was doing everything he could to be his friend. But Sam wasn't about to let that happen. He'd had to let too many friends go unexpectedly, that he couldn't bare the thought of doing it anymore. What was the point of making friends if you had to leave them in the middle of the night without a proper goodbye?

Out in the hallway, his pocket started vibrating. Sam pulled out his cellphone and flipped it open. The caller ID told him it was Pastor Jim, a family friend.

"Hey Jim," Sam answered.

"You got in Sam."

He froze.

"Where?" he asked.

This was a call he had been anxiously awaiting for, for months.

"Stanford!" Jim all but shouted. "And a full ride too!"

Sam's mouth dropped open in shock.

"I... how... now I have..." he stuttered along trying to put into words his joy at the news, "Wow."

"Congratulations kid," Jim said.

"Thanks, I..." Sam's face fell. "How do I tell Dad?" Sam heard a sigh on the other end of the phone. "How do I tell Dean?"

"Give it some time," Jim answered. "We'll think of something. You still have to graduate first, then you have all summer to fret."

Sam looked at the ground.

"I guess."

"Hey, don't worry about it right now," Jim said. "Just enjoy the fact that you got in. Let that keep you going okay?" he said.

Sam tried to smile.

"I will."

"you know I always pray for you and your family," Jim reminded him.

"I do," Sam answered. "Thanks... for everything."

"Anytime kid," Jim said, then he hung up.

Sam truly was grateful. Pastor Jim had agreed to help him submit all his college applications using his address in Blue Earth, Minnesota. He'd also given a glowing recommendation to accompany the applications. Sam was sure it had been a huge factor in his acceptance. Pastor Jim had also helped track down all his records and organize the applications. It was a lot of work and he never would have been able to pull it off alone.

His dad would never have allowed it.

The thought of his father brought Sam back down to earth. He had only a few months to figure what he was going to do.

But right now, he needed to get home.

Not that there would be anyone there.

But he had homework to do. And it always got done faster when there was no one home, which was happening a lot more these days.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he finally left the stuffy interior of the school and stepped out into the cool spring air of Phoenix, Oregon. It was a pleasant enough town. There wasn't anything too remarkable or distinguishing about it. The people treated them nicely and for once, they weren't staying in a motel.

Dad had rented a scrappy studio on the edge of town. But saying it was on the edge of town wasn't saying much, as that was only a few minutes away from the school and the center of town. The studio had once been a storage room for the house it sat behind. But the owner had spruced it up and put in some plumbing in order to rent it out for some extra money. His Dad had saved woman's son from an evil spirit a few years ago. Of course, she didn't know it was an evil spirit that had terrorized her son, but she was none the less grateful, and more than happy to house them rent free for as long as they needed it.

Sam had only met the woman once. She was kind, yet professional. She waved at him from her kitchen window as he passed on his way along the driveway that led to the garage and the small house next to it. He smiled politely as he walked by.

Just as he predicted, the impala was nowhere in sight. Dean had picked up a job at the closest auto shop and was working there as much as he could to earn some extra cash to keep them going. In the evenings, Dean either hung out at a bar on the street corner, hustling for cash, or found a girl to... do stuff with. He could count the number of times he had seen his brother in the past few weeks on one hand.

It had been a week since he last saw his dad. The man was hunting a werewolf in Roseburg. The full moon was tomorrow, so Sam didn't expect to see him for at least a few more days.

He pulled a key out of his front pocket and let himself into the house. The room was cramped. A queen sized bed took up one corner, while the kitchen and small dinner table took the other corner. A couch and TV set took up the part of the room closest to the front door. There were two other doors in the back of the room, one leading to a bathroom, the other to a closet.

The small room was a mess, but Sam was used to ignoring that fact. He usually straightened up on the weekends.

He set his backpack on the couch, took off his coat, and went straight for the refrigerator. He grabbed a piece of pizza and a can of soda and went back to the couch.

Dinner was served.

Once his hunger was satisfied, his thoughts turned to Stanford. He grabbed his math book from his backpack and flipped through it until he came to a small brochure embedded between the pages. On the cover was a picture of the campus, in all its academic glory. The sun shone brightly, the streets were lined with palm trees. It was heaven to him. And it was so much closer to becoming realty.

With a sigh, He put the brochure back in the book and turned the pages to tonight's homework assignment. He was about halfway done, when he heard the sound of what could only be his father's truck. He set his math book down on the couch and got up.

He peeked through the front door and saw his dad slowly get out of the truck. From what he could see, his dad was pretty roughed up. He had a bad bruise on the side of his head and a nasty looking scratch on his hand. His dad disappeared from view from a moment, only to reappear carrying his duffel bag. He wearily wiped his hand across his face before starting toward the front door.

Sam rushed to open it for him.

"Dad are you okay?" He asked anxiously.

His dad brushed by him.

"I'll live," he replied.

Sam closed the door.

"I thought the full moon wasn't until tomorrow?" he said.

John walked over to the bed and dropped his duffel on the ground beside it.

"This one transformed whenever it wanted," he answered. "I caught it returning to its home this morning."

John walked over the refrigerator and surveyed it contents.

Sam went over to the coffee table and grabbed his plate and empty can of soda. He took the plate to the sink and threw the soda in the trash. He watched as his dad grabbed some beer and walked toward the couch.

He stopped before he reached the couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Sam washed his plate as he listened in on the conversation.

"A wendigo?" he heard his dad mumble. "Two you say? Where in Montana?"

Sam put the dish in the drying rack and turned around, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah, I can leave tomorrow morning and have the boy's up there this weekend."

Sam's breath caught in his throat.

"Shouldn't take long with all of us after them," John laughed, then said his goodbyes, putting the phone back into the pocket of his coat.

John let out a big sigh.

"Looks like we're out of here."

Sam took a deep breath.

"You promised me we'd stay until the end of the semester."

John didn't look at Sam.

"I know," he shrugged his coat off his shoulders. "But people are dying Sam."

"They always are," Sam muttered angrily.

John threw his coat on the couch, sending Sam's math book falling to the floor.

"Don't start Sam," he said sharply, sitting down tiredly on the couch.

Sam clenched his fists.

"Yes, because this is all my fault," Sam said angrily staring at the back of his dad's head. "It's always my fault that you can't keep your word."

John lowered his head.

"We're going and that's final," He said sternly.

"To hell it isn't," Sam said. "There's only two months left and then I graduate. We leave now, I'll never be able to catch up."

"You always manage to," John said, bending down out of Sam's sight.

Sam frowned.

"I shouldn't have to."

John was quiet as he sat back up, looking at something in his hands. After a few moments he spoke.

"Stanford?" he questioned, turning around to face Sam.

Sam walked over and tried to take the brochure from his dad's hands, but John quickly moved out of his reach.

"You can't seriously be thinking about trying to apply there?" he said as if he thought Sam were joking.

Sam glared indignantly at John.

"Why not?"

For once John was almost smiling.

"Could you really see yourself spend your time with all those people who have no clue about what's really out there?" He said. "Not to mention, you'd never be able to afford it, let alone get in."

Sam's mouth dropped open.

"For your information I'm at the top of my class!" Sam said. "_Despite_ our abnormal upbringing."

At this John's gaze turned icy.

"Your 'abnormal' upbringing kept you alive," he said pointing a finger at Sam.

"Dean kept me alive, no thanks to you," Sam sneered.

John turned to the brochure and started ripping it into tiny pieces.

"Don't you dare even think of applying," he said, throwing the pieces at Sam.

All Sam could see in that moment was red.

"I already did," he spat out. "And I got in... with a full ride."

John's eyes widened as a cold fury overtook his face.

"I guess it's too much to ask for you to be proud of me for once, huh?" Sam said, hurt in his eyes. "Mom would have been happy for me."

"You don't know that," John spat.

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, because you refuse to tell me anything about her, except that she died in my nursery."

John glared at him.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that," he said.

"Like what?" Sam said. "You're such a hypocrite."

For a moment, Sam thought his dad would explode in anger. But the moment came and went, and John dropped the subject.

"Does Dean know you applied?" John asked.

Sam shook his head.

John smirked and grabbed his coat as he stood up.

"Good luck with that," he said. "Dean will never let you go."

"Yes he will," Sam said defiantly. "You don't know Dean like I do."

John was standing at the front door.

"You tell yourself that Sammy."

Sam watched him go with a cold rage burning in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2: Glitter isn't gold

**Chapter 2: Glitter isn't gold**

The morning dawned cold and bleak. Sam woke to an empty room. There was no trace his dad had returned during the night, though the truck was still parked outside. Dean was MIA too. It was just as well he supposed. He didn't have any words for his dad, and he feared what Dean would say when he found out about this latest fight.

Sam got ready for school sluggishly, still reeling from his dad's hurtful words. The tiny pieces of the Stanford brochure were still on the floor. Sam hadn't had the heart to clean them up.

He quickly put on his coat, noticing how the sleeves were getting uncomfortably short. It was just another thing that sucked in his abysmal life.

The walk to school was quick and unremarkable. He kept looking at the passing cars both hoping and dreading to see the Impala.

School served as a welcome distraction. For a few hours, he was able to immerse himself in history and biology. But his improved mood went out the window at lunch time, when he saw he had a voice mail message on his phone.

_"We need to talk. I'm picking you up after school. I'll be waiting for that bell for ring. You better get your butt out on time or so help me, I will pack all our things up and we'll be leaving tonight, instead of tomorrow."_

After hearing that message he lost his appetite and left the cafeteria. He headed to his locker to grab his books for the rest of the day's classes.

"Hey Sam."

He turned around. It was Copper.

"I need a favor," Cooper said.

The other teen nervously wrung his hands.

Sam wearily looked at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with other people at the moment.

"You know how important getting a good grade in English is for me right?" Cooper asked.

Sam nodded, not sure where this was going.

"If I don't pass, I'm not going to get to graduate with everyone else," he stated.

Sam sighed. He heard all this before. Cooper had told him that fact the very first time they had met to study after class. He wished the other teen would get to the point.

"Well my grade isn't so good," he said. "And tomorrow's paper could make all the difference."

Sam grabbed his books and closed his locker.

"I haven't exactly written it," Cooper finally admitted.

Sam frowned as he turned to face Cooper.

"But I put together that outline and gave you all the sources," Sam said.

"Exactly," Cooper said with a smile, "That's why I figured it would be easy enough for you, since you're so great at writing, to... writemypaperforme."

The last part of the sentence came out in a rush.

Sam shook his head.

"I can't do that," Sam said. "That's cheating."

Cooper pulled at his shirt.

"I thought we were friends," he said quietly.

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

"In case you haven't noticed, I have no friends," Sam said with a sad laugh.

Cooper looked up and tilted his head.

"Maybe if you were nicer, that wouldn't be a problem," he said innocently.

Sam frowned in anger.

"You wouldn't understand," he said stiffly.

He returned to the subject at hand.

"I'm only here to help you, not do your homework for you."

In the blink of an eye, Cooper became a completely different person. He took a sudden step toward Sam, pushing him back against the locker.

"I need this grade to graduate," Cooper said in a low voice, his face just inches away from Sam's. "I will not be the laughing stock of my family."

Having faced unimaginable supernatural creatures, Sam was not the type of person to be intimidated by a harmless human, especially one who was getting on his nerves.

"That sounds like a personal problem," Sam said, his voice sounding much more dangerous.

Cooper didn't back down.

"I can make this a personal problem for you," Cooper said.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're biting off more than you can chew Cooper," Sam said. "Your grade is your responsibility. Now I would like to get to class if you wouldn't mind."

Sam pushed Cooper back and started to walk away, but the other teen quickly grabbed his arm. Sam reacted to the threat by wrenching his arm out of Cooper's grasp and taking a defensive stance.

Cooper raised his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely, doing another 360 in personality. "I'm sorry."

He put his hands down. Sam watched him carefully.

"You have to understand," Cooper pleaded. "My parents and my sister have PHD's. My Brother is working on his master's, and my other brother is a double major. It's a lot to live up to."

Sam took a step backward.

"You won't get far asking other people to do your homework," Sam continued walking backwards until he was sure Cooper wouldn't come after him.

"So I guess I won't be seeing you after class?" Cooper shouted after him.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he would be leaving the next day.

* * *

Just as he had promised, Dean was waiting for him in the parking lot after school got out. The drive home was made in silence. Dean wasn't even playing his beloved classic rock. The usually comforting sound of the Impala's engines, grated on his fraying nerves. The encounter with Cooper had him on edge. Now he had to deal with Dean.

Outside, the gray skies promised rain.

As they pulled into the driveway that lead to their temporary home, Sam noticed their dad's truck wasn't there anymore. He breathed an internal sigh of relief. At least he didn't have to worry about dealing with the man at the moment.

Dean pulled the key out of the ignition and got of the car without a word. Sam sighed and got out too reluctantly following him inside the studio.

Dean went straight for the kitchen and grabbed a beer in each hand. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Sit," Dean said sharply, motioning to the chair across from him.

Sam walked to the table slowly. Rather than sit in the chair, he chose to lean against the back of the couch.

Dean took a hearty swig of his beer.

"So when were you planning on telling me about Stanford?" he asked.

Sam looked at the floor. The brochure pieces were nowhere to be seen.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I only just found out yesterday."

He looked up at his brother. Dean was staring at him with his head tilted.

"But you had to have submitted the application ages ago," Dean said. "Just because I dropped out, doesn't mean I'm stupid. I can do the math."

Sam stood up from the couch.

"I never said you were," he said begging Dean to understand.

Dean only shook his head.

"So were you just going to spring it on me at the last minute?" he asked looking at Sam like he could see right through him. "Or were you even going to tell me at all, just go disappearing in the middle of the night?"

Sam started pacing.

"No, of course not!" he said quickly. "I haven't really had a chance to think about it. It was all such a gamble."

Dean took another gulp of his drink.

"What, applying, or the getting in part?"

Sam stopped mid step.

"Both!"

Dean was asking questions he didn't want to answer.

"You didn't think you'd get in?" Dean had an eyebrow raised as if Sam was joking. "Mister straight A, I-can-recite-the-declaration-of-independence-backwards-in-my-sleep?"

Sam was speechless. Dean was taking this way better than he had imagined.

"You're... okay with this?" Sam asked taking a step toward the kitchen table.

Dean fidgeted with the beer bottle.

"Of course," he said not looking at Sam. "I'd disappointed if you didn't get in."

Sam cautiously smiled.

"This isn't how I imagined this going," he told Dean.

His big brother rolled his eyes.

"I'm not dad," he said, sounding affronted.

"Thank God," Sam said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from Dean.

His brother smiled and took another swig, this time deeper and longer, finishing off the bottle.

"Dad's on his way to Minnesota," Dean said. "Left around lunch time."

Sam sighed.

"I figured," he said.

"Oh you should have seen him Sammy," Dean said reaching for the other beer bottle. "He was livid."

Sam frowned.

"Not at you?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Dean smirked, trying, but failing, to sound nonchalant about it.

"Nah," he said popping the top off the bottle and taking a sip. "Kept going on about you. How you wouldn't last a day on your own."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You leave me alone all the time and I'm still alive aren't I," Sam said with a smile.

The smile slowly faded from Dean's lips. He took another gulp.

"Stanford is so far away," Dean said not looking at Sam. "What if something happens?"

Sam tilted his head. Dean continued.

"I mean... to you... or to me... or dad," he said staring at the beer in his hands like it was the only thing he had left in the world. "We're not exactly the easiest of people to get a hold of in the case of an emergency, let alone everyday life."

Sam didn't like the way this conversation was going. He tried to lighten things up.

"Then I guess you better answer your phone when I call Jerk," Sam said with a laugh.

Dean only took another gulp of beer. He brushed his hand over his mouth.

"It just seems so lonely being alone," Dean said.

Sam wasn't sure whether his brother was talking about Stanford anymore.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, feeling confused.

"Day after day, week after week, the endless driving, the killing things..." he faded off into silence. "You know dad's not the warmest of people, right?"

Sam frowned and looked at Dean like he was stating the obvious.

"Never has been, never will be," Sam said.

Dean laughed, sounding sad and tired.

"He didn't used to be this way," Dean said.

Sam bit his lip nervously. Dean never spoke of their dad in these terms before.

"He used to play catch with me out on the lawn," Dean said, lost in a memory. "Would you believe that?"

Sam looked at his hands in his lap. He couldn't honestly imagine that at all.

"What are you saying Dean?" Sam asked.

"I'm glad you're getting out of the hunt Sam," Dean said, finishing off his second beer. "The hunt turns you cold. I don't want that for you."

Sam frowned.

"You're not cold," Sam said.

Dean sighed.

"I will be," he said forlornly.

"Don't say that," Sam said.

This was depressing talk and he didn't like it one bit.

He thought for a moment.

"Come with me," he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"We can be normal together," he said trying to sound optimistic.

"You know how ridiculous that sounds?" Dean said with a smirk. "I gave up the idea of normal a long time ago."

He got up, taking the two bottles with him to the garbage can.

"Dad always told me to watch out for you Sam," Dean said walking back to the table, two more bottles in his hand. "That's all I've known."

Sam's relief at Dean's earlier acceptance was fading fast. Dread was growing in his heart.

"And when I leave?" he asked hesitantly.

Dean sat down, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

"See, it's already 'when I leave,' not 'if,' you're already distancing yourself," Dean said looking anywhere but at Sam.

"But I'm still here," Sam said, his eyes starting to well up.

Dean opened his third beer and took a heavy gulp.

"It would almost be better if you just left now," Dean said, his voice sounding cold and aloof. "Better to rip the Band-Aid right off, then suffer through the long goodbye."

"Just stop it Dean," Sam asked. "You don't mean that."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"So Mr. Smarty pants is going to tell me how to feel now?" Dean said looking at Sam with disdain. "That's rich."

"I thought you were okay with this," Sam said.

Dean smirked.

"I guess I just haven't had the time to think about it," he said, throwing Sam's words right back at him. "I mean, it's all happening so fast."

Sam angrily brushed the tears from his eyes and stood up.

"Dad was right," he said, hurt filling his voice. "You won't let me go will you?"

Dean shrugged.

"The front door is always open," he said with a smile.

Sam's mouth dropped open. How could Dean say that? In that moment he decided he couldn't stand to be in the same room with his brother.

"Well then," Sam said spitefully, "I'd hate to waste a golden opportunity."

He turned his back to Dean and marched out the door, slamming it behind him.

Sam stood at the door, silent; waiting. After a few minutes, when Dean didn't come rushing out to keep him from leaving, disappointment drowned him. He cursed the day he had submitted that application to Stanford. All it had done was complicate his life and hurt his family. Not that they were the perfect example of unity in the first place. Now his mind was torn up about what to do.

If only he had kept his mouth shut when he was arguing with his dad. Then he could have kept this under wraps for at least a few more months.

_Oh, who was he kidding? _

The secret would have eaten him up on the inside. It had been hard enough keeping quiet about submitting the application. Now here he was, stuck under a dark sky, with scattered droplets of rain falling on his head. Fortunately he was still wearing his jacket, so the cold was only minimally annoying.

He considered turning around and going back inside, but his pride squashed that option before he could fully form the idea in his mind. There would be no reasoning with Dean tonight. His brother was well on his way to a drunk oblivion.

He eyed the Impala. Sure it couldn't offer the warmth of the bed inside, but it was better than running back there with his tail between his legs. He rushed over to the passenger side door and tested it, letting out a sigh a relief when the door creaked open.

Once inside, he realized he'd left his backpack here in the car. That was certainly convenient. At least he could go to school without facing Dean in the morning. He'd be wearing the same clothes, but since it was his last day anyway and he didn't have any friends to be ashamed in front of, he didn't mind in the least.

His mind settled, Sam raised his legs up on the seat and hugged his knees close to his chest. He rested his head on his knees and drifted off to a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: Bleeding out

**Chapter 3: Bleeding out**

When Sam woke the next morning, he found himself enveloped in warmth. He was now laying on his side with a comforter wrapped around him. He figured Dean must have come out some time in the night and brought the blanket. The thought made him feel guilty, considering their argument from the previous night.

Dean might be angry and hurt, but he still cared. For that reason, Sam felt horrible for saying the things he did. They both had reacted without thinking and where had it got them?

Sam sighed.

His life had become so much more complicated and headache inducing since Pastor Jim had told him he'd gotten into Stanford. While it was an amazing opportunity, it wasn't worth ruining his family.

Sam stared at the ceiling of the impala. He'd worked so hard to get into the prestigious school. He'd spent countless hours immersing himself in his homework, submitting assignments, and struggling to keep up with their constant moving; all while researching and hunting every supernatural being he could along the way. Stanford was his light at the end of a very bleak tunnel.

But that light was shining much dimmer now in the wake of his family's reaction. All that he had worked so hard on, was finally within reach. But why did it seem like he would have to abandon his family to achieve his goals? Why did it have to be all or nothing?

Sam glanced his watch.

_Crap!_

School started in less than 15 minutes. How in the world had he slept so late? Sam quickly sat up and grabbed his backpack. He jumped out of the car and straightened out his clothes as much as he could to look at least somewhat presentable. With a sad sigh he realized he didn't have his coat. He would have to endure the chilly morning without it.

He took one last look at the studio, where Dean was no doubt sleeping off all the beers he had most likely drank after Sam had left the room. He wanted to apologize and reassure his older brother, but he figured they'd have plenty of time for all the chick flick moments they would need on their trip to Montana tonight.

Mind made up, Sam started the short walk to school.

* * *

Sam's classes passed by in a monotonous blur. He listened, took notes, and even answered a few questions when the teacher called on him, but his heart wasn't into it. If he was being honest with himself, it was waiting for him back at their temporary home. Life honestly sucked so much more when he and dean weren't on good terms.

By the time lunch hour rolled around, Sam was starving. He hadn't eaten anything in the morning, and hadn't eaten much yesterday. When things got stressful in his life, his appetite was always the first thing to go. Once in the cafeteria he grabbed a tray and started loading up his plate.

When he reached the end of the line, Sam turned to head to a table. One moment he was standing, the next, he was on the ground, his food scattered across his tray.

"Sam!"

He looked to his side. It was Cooper. The other boy wasn't as lucky. Half of his meal landed on the floor.

"I'm so clumsy," Cooper muttered, trying to at least save what he could of his meal. "I'm sure this looks like I did it purpose after yesterday," he said sounding shy and repentant.

Sam stood up, watching the other teen warily.

"But I promise this was an accident," Cooper stood up, handing Sam his milk.

Sam took the small carton.

Cooper took a step closer to Sam. Other students passed around them.

"I really am sorry about yesterday," he started. "I'm just under a lot of pressure from my parents right now."

Sam nodded, and made to move away, but Cooper reached out.

If Sam wasn't holding his lunch tray, he would have reacted defensively.

"Please sit with me?" Cooper asked.

Sam wanted to do no such thing, but since this was his last day, he figured it wouldn't hurt. He followed Cooper to a table in the middle of the room.

While they ate, Cooper engaged in small talk. Sam responded with one worded answers here and there, but for the most part was silent. This didn't seem to bother Cooper though. As he ate, Sam realized no one else was joining their table. The more he thought about it, he hadn't really noticed Cooper interacting with the other students throughout his short time at the school. It was food for thought.

As lunch hour wore on, Sam started to feel a strange sense of calm come over himself. It was the most peculiar feeling he had ever felt. It wasn't natural.

"Hey!" Cooper snapped his fingers in Sam's face causing him to jump. "Are you listening to me or not?"

Sam tilted his head. He honestly couldn't remember what Cooper had been talking about.

"Dude, are you okay?" Cooper was frowning at him. "You seem kind of spaced out."

"Huh?" Sam blinked and looked at Cooper. What was happening?

Cooper starting looking at Sam differently.

"Did you take something man?" he asked with knowing look on his face. "I've seen that look before on some on the members of the swim team."

He leaned in closer to Sam, who was looking at the empty space next to Cooper.

"Was it marijuana?" Cooper said conspiratorially.

This brought Sam's attention back to earth.

"What?" he said frowning in confusion? "My dad would kill me if I started doing that."

He looked down at the table.

_Where had that response come from? He never spoke about his family to others. Why was it so easy to do so now?_

"Something's wrong," Sam said.

_Had he said that out loud?_

It was like he had no control over what he was saying. He had to get out of here and fast.

"Dude calm down," Cooper said raising his hands, "I won't tell."

Sam shook his head.

"This isn't right," he stood up clumsily and made for the door.

"Sam, what about your food?" Cooper called after him.

Sam ignored him. He was too busy concentrating on staying upright. The world was starting to tip over dangerously. He must have managed that task spectacularly as no one gave him any strange looks.

He slowly walked toward the bathroom, realizing with dread that he had left his backpack in the cafeteria. Still he pressed on. He pushed open the doors with a bang, relieved to find no one else was occupying the space. He stumbled over to the sink and stared in the mirror.

_Dean!_

He needed to call Dean. He slapped a hand to his forehead when he remembered that it too was in his backpack.

_Think!_

A noise from one of the stalls behind him caught his attention. Wearily he pushed himself away from the sink and slowly stumbled over to the other side of the bathroom.

"Hello?" he said.

He could have sworn there was no one else in the bathroom.

With a bang, Sam threw open the door of the nearest stall. There was nothing there. Great. Now he was hearing things. He tiredly rubbed his face, wondering why he felt so worn out all of sudden. His vision was getting foggy.

As Sam stared at the stall door, something moved out of the corner of his eye. But when he looked, nothing was there.

"Show yourself!" he yelled, pulling out his knife from the back of the waistband of his jeans.

Sam slammed another stall open, only to see nothing there as well. The sound of footsteps made him panic and rush into the last stall in the corner of the bathroom.

Another student walked in. Sam listened as they used the urinal, washed their hands, the left the bathroom.

Sam sighed in relief, and leaned against the wall. He let himself slide to the floor, his kneed bent in front of him. He covered his face with his hands and just sat there for a moment. He needed to calm down. Then he needed to think.

The only problem was that he couldn't seem to hold on to any coherent thought. His eyes started closing of their own accord.

_No!_

He shook his head and blinked blearily. This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not here. He needed to get up. He needed to get out of here. Maybe go to the nurse. This wasn't right. The bathroom door opened.

"Sam?" Someone called. He rubbed his face, and struggled to speak out. He knew that voice. But his brain wouldn't identify who it was.

Suddenly the door to the stall he was in opened and a shadow fell over him. His vision was turning black on the edges. He heard a voice speaking, but he couldn't comprehend what it was saying. He felt a sharp pain on his arm, near his hand; then the other one.

He frowned.

_What was happening? _

_Why was there so much red?_

The voice stopped talking and for a few minutes all was quiet. Sam started feeling lighter and lighter as the time passed.

Abruptly there was shouting. Someone was freaking out.

What was going on?

The person disappeared, only to be replaced by a crowd of others. All he could hear were frantic cries. Someone started shaking him. It was all too much to take. The world slowly turned to black and Sam Winchester knew no more.


	4. Chapter 4: Cold

**Chapter 4: Cold**

Sam woke to the sound of beeping monitors. He felt uncomfortably stiff and everything smelled way too clean.

"Sam?" an anxious voice spoke to his left.

He struggled to open his eyes, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room.

"Dean? His voice was scratchy and raw. He swallowed hard.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned. Dean was on edge. He was speaking in a tone he only used when one of them was hurt. Looking around and seeing he was in a hospital, he figured he must be at the heart of his brothers concern.

"What happened?" he asked, looking at Dean.

His brother looked rough to say the least. He hadn't shaved in at least a day and there were bags under his normally alert and bright eyes. Sam's question seemed to anger his older brother. He could see it in his eyes. But the voice that responded was calm.

"I was hoping you'd answer that question," Dean said, laying his hands in his lap.

Sam looked at Dean blankly. He tried to think about the last thing he remembered, but it all was blurry.

"I think I was at school? He asked, looking for confirmation.

Dean let out a loud sigh.

Sam tried to sit up, but instead let out a hiss as a pain in both his wrist flared up. Dread filled his heart as he gave up his efforts and gingerly raised his hands to his face.

Thick gauze wound up his arm front both wrists to about half way to his elbows. There was an I.V. line inserted into his right hand. He knew what this indicated, but he couldn't for the life of himself, remember how in the world this had happened.

"Why did you do it?" Dean asked sounding heartbroken. "I know we said some pretty nasty things, and dad..."

Dean shook his head.

"I never thought you would do something like this," he said rubbing his face.

Sam shook his head.

"But I don't remember... I couldn't," he looked at his wrist, "I wouldn't do this."

Dean looked at Sam sadly.

"The doctors said you might not remember," he said.

Sam turned and looked at Dean.

"You were high on some anti-anxiety medication at the time," he said with an accusing stare. "Memory loss is one of the perky side effects apparently."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't take anything," he said, trying to remember anything that might have led to this.

He may not remember much, but he was sure about that. He hated taking pills. They made him gag.

However, looking at Dean, he could see his brother wasn't believing a word that came out of his mouth. The realization hurt more than words could describe. He watched as dean leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He held his face in his hands and slumped his shoulders in what could only be a show of complete misery.

A buzzing sound broke the awkward silence. It was Dean's phone.

"Yeah, dad," Dean answered. "Floor 3, room 326."

Dean held the phone in his hand for a moment, before he put it back in his pocket.

It literally made Sam's heart ache to see his big brother like this. It only grew more intense, because he knew he was the cause of such sadness. He looked so lost. There seemed to be no words he could say to console Dean. Everything he said only seem to make things worse. So he stayed silent. Sam closed his eyes, hoping in vain that this was just a horrible dream and when he woke, everything would be right again.

Instead he heard the door open, and the sound of footsteps drawing nearer to his bed. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was his father. The man was looking over Sam with a worried yet critical gaze. Once it seemed he assessed that Sam was more or less okay at the moment, the wild look in his eyes dissipated. It was replaced with a burning anger that caused Sam to flinch and look away.

"Dean, go get yourself something to eat."

There was no room for argument. Dean only nodded as he got up. He didn't even glance at Sam as he left the room.

Now alone with his father, Sam nervously fidgeted with the scratchy hospital blanket. It hurt like hell to move his fingers in such a way, but the pain was good distraction from his current reality, so long as he didn't think about why it hurt.

John walked around the bed and took Dean's seat. Sam could tell out the corner of his eye that his dad was staring at him, daring him to be the first one to speak. Sam kept his mouth shut rebelliously. Judging by the angry huff his dad let out, Sam had passed on his intent clearly.

"How could you even think about..." he paused, physically unable to say what Sam had done, "How could you do what you did?"

Sam sent a sharp glare at his dad.

"Dean's been beside himself this whole time. You have no idea what pain you've caused your brother with you actions."

Sam felt his eyes start to well with tears.

"And how do you think I felt when he called me to tell me about all this," he gestured at Sam's wrists accusingly.

"We're supposed to be hunting wendigoes right now." he huffed out. "Now, more people are going to die."

Sam turned away from his father, tears rolling down the side of his face into his pillow. He didn't bother explaining that he didn't remember his supposed suicide attempt. If Dean hadn't believed him, then what chance was there that his dad would?

Besides, what if he really did this to himself? What if what the doctors had told dean about the anti-anxiety medication were true? Maybe he had taken something after all. Maybe he really wanted to end his life.

He'd thought about it in a very general way a few times. Usually that had been after a particularly trying hunt or another move. He'd never get very far in his musings though. His dad always said suicide was the coward's way out. And dean told him killing yourself never solved anything. Besides, someone needed to do what they did to save lives. His life may be miserable at times, but no else deserved to live that way.

Once a teacher told him that he could be anything he wanted, he'd latched onto the idea of college being his salvation. That put an end to any suicidal daydreams. He had something to look forward to.

Now, in the after math of his acceptance to Stanford, that bright light that awaited him after graduation was much dimmer. The chance of him leaving now seemed to dwindle with every conversation he had with his family. He couldn't deny that that sort of thought wouldn't make him consider suicide once more.

But thinking about suicide was much different than actually going through with it.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" John asked, breaking the silence.

Sam stayed stubbornly silent. He refused to even look at his father. At that moment the door opened again. This time it was a nurse and a man who wore a long white coat. He wore glasses and carried a clip board.

The nurse went right to work replacing Sam's bandages.

"Mr. Winchester, if I might have a moment with your son?"

Sam heard a chair scrape the floor as his dad stood up without a word. The man was out of the room before he could blink.

Sam watched with morbid fascination as the nurse clean his stitches and put some cream on his arm. The cuts went from his wrist to about halfway up his arm. They weren't very straight at all. He could see that the cut on his left arm was made in two passes. With the stitches in place he couldn't tell just how deep they went. His arm was paler than he ever remembered it being. He was only too happy when the nurse wrapped his wrist with bandages so he couldn't see the offending marks any more.

"You're lucky to be alive Sam," the man in the white coat remarked as the nurse left the room. "My name is Dale **Callahan.** I'm a psychologist."

Sam looked at the man wearily. The last person he wanted to speak to was a psychologist.

Seeming to sense that, Dale continued.

"You almost bled out before you arrived here. Those cuts were pretty deep. We had to give you several blood transfusions."

Sam didn't say anything. He tucked the information away for further thought.

"Your family is taking this very hard," the doctor noted looking at his notes. "They refuse to say much too much. I figure you won't be that different."

Sam only glared at the man.

"The faster you accept that you need help, the faster we can get you out of here and on the road to recovery," Dale said writing down some notes. "Things will get better, I promise."

Sam looked away tiredly. How could the man possibly know that? He heard the doctor's footsteps as he left the room, only to be replaced by the steps of another coming in. Sam closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. A quick peek revealed it was Dean. He closed his eyes before his brother could see he was awake. It didn't matter if Dean could tell when he was faking sleep. Dean never usually called him out for it. He was counting on that right now.

He thought about all he had been told since he had woken. He remembered how Dean had almost rolled his eyes, when he had said he didn't remember cutting himself. He remembered how the doctor told him the he could out of here sooner if he just admitted he had a problem. Judging from those words and the body language he had seen, he reasoned that he was acting like the typical suicidal teen.

If he wanted to figure out what really happened, then he needed to get out of here. The only thing in his future here were long talks with a psychologist and absolutely no privacy. He had noticed how he was never left alone. That level of invasion was sure to get on his nerves the longer it continued.

To get out of here, he had to convince everyone he was ready to get better. Even though he wasn't convinced he was "sick" in any way. A part of himself worried whether this might be part of the sickness, the self-denial. The very thought of his made his stomach turn. He needed to know one way or another.

He opened his eyes and looked at his brother. He waited until their eyes met then started his elaborate act.

"Dean," he said softly. "I want to get better."

He channeled all his inner turmoil into tears and allowed them to slowly fall down his face.

Dean let out a relieved sigh. When he saw the tears on Sam's face, he stood up and bent over him, giving him a reassuring hug.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and held on like his brother was the only thing keeping him alive. He relished in the simple action. It had been months since Dean had hugged him like this. He only felt sad that it took a suicide attempt to reconnect like this.

When Dean finally let go, the both of them were able to rest easy in a much more comfortable silence.


	5. Chapter 5: The solution

**Chapter 5: The solution**

In the hours after he first woke up from his so called suicide attempt, Sam's time had been taken up by constant checks by nurses, a visit or two from his attending physician, and of course a visit from Dale, the ever persistent psychiatrist.

This was the man he needed to convince that he was okay, in order to get out of the hospital. The many years of observing his brother and father lie through their teeth taught him all he needed to know, to put on the perfect show. He kept up his eye contact with the doctor to increase the feeling of honesty and trust. He gave slight smiles when warranted and even let a few tears fall while promising never to attempt suicide again.

"I think we really made a breakthrough here today Sam," the doctor said jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

Sam arranged his face into a look that Dean called his puppy eyes of doom.

"I wish I could remember what I was thinking before I... did what I did," he said, sighing dramatically. "You know, so I can stop myself before I ever get this far again."

The doctor smiled reassuringly.

"We'll just have to make sure you never have the chance to get to that point again then, won't we?" he said standing up.

Sam nodded.

"You've made a lot of progress Sam," Dale said. "As long as your injuries continue to heal correctly, I think we can have you out of here with the next two days."

Sam quickly took a deep breath and pushed away his first instinct to express anger at the prognoses. He needed to appear calm. He nodded, looking at his hands.

"What about school?" he asked, looking back up at the doctor.

As far as he could tell, he had been brought in here after lunchtime on Friday. It was now Saturday evening. With the doctor's current outlook, he most likely wouldn't be able to go on Monday. The thought both relieved and angered him. It was a strange feeling.

The doctor put his clipboard to his side.

"I wouldn't worry about it this next week," he said. "You need time to recover. It won't do you any good to rush back into the situation that drove you to be in this hospital in the first place."

Sam frowned in confusion.

"Your brother told me you just got into Stanford with a full scholarship," the doctor said with a smile. "That isn't an easy feat for any student, much less one that moves around as much as you do."

The frowned faded from Sam's face as the thought of Stanford crossed his mind.

"You've probably been pushing yourself very hard for a long time," Dale said. "It's probably why we found the ativan in your bloodstream."

The doctor gave an unusual amount of emphasis on the last part of his sentence, as if he was chastising Sam.

He figured the doctor wouldn't listen to any claims of denial on that matter, especially since the man had put together a solid story behind Sam's condition, that Sam had no plans of changing.

"Ativan won't help you," the doctor continued. "You need to learn to cope with the stress of your life on your own, in more healthy ways. You can't depend on drugs to get your through four years of college."

The doctor was under the illusion that Sam was still planning on going to college. Obviously Dean hadn't told him about their fights about leaving.

"We talk more about that tomorrow," the doctor said with a gentle smile. "You get some rest tonight okay?"

Sam nodded and looked at his hands. He couldn't wait to get out of here.

* * *

Just as the doctor promised, he was right back at Sam's beside the next morning, ready to talk about healthy coping methods with stress.

Sam listened aptly, feigning interest, and nodded when required. He was sure to ask the right questions and give the right answers when asked.

As far as he was concerned all this talk about handling stress was useless. He knew very well how handle stress. You didn't last very long as a hunter without being able to clear your mind in the heat of the fight. He long ago lost the ability to be easily scared or shocked by the strange and gruesome things he and his family came across in their various hunts. Blood, gore, ghosts popping out of nowhere; it was all par for the course.

So to say he was having a little bit of trouble handling the stress of school, made him want to laugh in the psychologists face. However, he did no such thing. The doctor's theory, while false in every way, was much easier to explain away and solve, than his real problems. Telling the man the real reason why his family had to move so often, would only land him in a padded room in the nearest mental facility.

Dale looked at his watch, then sighed.

"Looks like it's time for lunch," he said, writing down more notes on his clipboard.

Sam had to wonder just what the man was writing down. He hadn't said anything much of interest all morning, as far as he could tell.

"Your doctor will come in after lunch to check on your wrists." Dale said standing up. "I'll be back here tomorrow morning."

"Then I can leave right?" Sam asked with a shy smile, putting his puppy dog eyes on full display.

Dale shrugged.

"I don't see why not," he said with a smile. "You'll need to come back probably once a week for the next month or two to make sure you stay on the right track. But we'll work that all out later."

He smiled again left the room.

Sam internally smirked. They probably wouldn't stick around long enough for that to be an issue. In fact, as soon as he got out of this hospital, he expected they would be headed straight to Montana for get rid of those wendigoes.

As soon as the doctor left, Dean came back into the room. Sam had figured out early on, that he was never left alone for more than a minute or two.

Dean was carrying a large tray loaded with two plates and glasses. Sam softly sighed. His appetite had been practically nonexistent right ever since he first woke yesterday. But that didn't stop Dean from trying to force him to eat.

"Look here," Dean said with a smiled. "We got all that healthy crap you love. Chicken soup with carrots and real applesauce."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"As opposed to what?" he said tilting his head.

Dean shrugged, setting the tray in Sam's lap. He grabbed a ham sandwich from the plate on his side of the tray.

"I don't know. Lady said she made it herself."

Dean sat down and devoured the sandwich.

Sam could only shake his head. He looked at his soup and wanted to gag. The applesauce didn't look any better either. But for the sake of getting out of here sooner, he forced himself to slurp down a spoonful of soup. It went down his throat like sludge.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Dean was trying not to look like he was watching Sam eat. He'd been doing that all day. It was starting to get on his nerves and he knew it would only get worse once he got out of here.

But he had to pick his battles he supposed. Right now that was eating. Not only did the food not look very appetizing, his wrists were bothering him. The journey from bowl to mouth was really starting to hurt. However the medication they gave him to help with it, made him feel nauseous, so the first chance he had to refuse, he did. Now he had to deal with tingling nerves.

He couldn't decide if that was better than the cold numbness he had felt last night when he woke up in the middle of the night. The doctor said he hadn't permanently damaged any nerves. But that wouldn't stop him from feeling the occasional twinge as it healed. This certainly felt like more than just a simple twinge. But he wasn't about to complain in the position he was in.

He gathered all his resolve as if he was about to face some big nasty supernatural creature. In reality his biggest foe right now was finishing this meal. Within minutes he had managed to get about half way through the soup and ate a few scoops of applesauce. But it was all he could take. He pushed away the tray and looked at Dean.

The sandwich was long gone and his brother looked bored.

"There still some soup there Sam," he said eyeing Sam with barely concealed worry.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I ate half," he said. "If I eat any more I'll barf."

Dean look vaguely disgusted.

"You could have the rest if you really want though," Sam said in an innocent tone.

His brother looked from the soup, to his face.

"I think I'll take your word for it," he reached over and grabbed the tray, setting it on the bedside table out of the way.

The lightness of the moment seemed to hover in the air for a moment, before Dean sighed, breaking the moment.

Sam absentmindedly scratched at the bandages on his arm. It was starting to itch a bit. He decided it was as a good a time as any to bring up a question he had been thinking of for a while now.

"Where's dad?" he asked.

He only remembered seeing him right after he first woke up. When he left the room at the doctor's request, he had never come back.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and sat back in his chair.

"Dean?" he asked again.

He was starting to get the feeling he wouldn't like the answer to his question.

His brother shrugged.

"He kind of left," Dean said finally.

Sam frowned.

"Left?" he said.

Dean leaned forward again.

"Look Sammy," he said. "He called up Caleb and headed back to Montana."

Sam mouthed a silent 'oh' and looked at his hands. The end of the bandage on his left hand was starting to fray from his picking at it.

A slow burning anger started to grow deep in his heart.

_How could he leave?_

Were wendigoes really that much more important than his own son? Was this his dad's way of showing him just how little he actually cared?

"Sam?"

He heard Dean speaking, but he couldn't think of responding when all he could think about was how angry he was at his dad. A burning pain filled him to his core. He had been abandoned. And right after a supposed suicide attempt. That would definitely be the sort of thing to send someone like him off the edge.

"Sammy!" Dean suddenly stood and grabbed both of Sam's hands separating them.

Sam gasped at the rough treatment, realizing the burning pain he felt was very much physical. He had wrapped one hand over his left wrist and was squeezing the life out of it. Shame filled him at what he had unwittingly done. Abruptly, he pulled his hands out of Dean's strong grip, using strength he didn't know he had.

Dean seemed a little surprised and backed up raising his hands slightly.

Now Sam's left arm was stinging slightly. He looked at his arm, then at Dean, who was watching him wearily while he slowly sat down again.

"What was that about?" he asked softly.

Sam could tell he was spooked and that made him feel even worse. He thought about his dad's parting words about how much pain this whole situation was causing Dean. He didn't want to hurt his older brother. Never. But a part of him bristled at the way his father had blamed him for causing pain, instead of consoling him, or even acknowledging his own role in all of this.

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that man. It only was making his mood worse and causing Dean to hover annoyingly.

"Say something Sam," Dean said on the edge of his seat.

Sam let out an annoyed sigh.

"I'm fine Dean," he said. "Just leave me alone."

Dean looked affronted for a moment, then worried the next. It only angered Sam and left him guilty for feeling that way. This was his brother. The person who had basically raised him. He didn't deserve this type of treatment.

Why was this so hard all of a sudden? Finding out his dad had left without a thought of his well being had sent his emotions and thoughts into a flurry of action. He just wanted it all to stop.

At that moment, the door to his room opened. It was the doctor, there to check on his wrists. The distraction couldn't have come at a better time.

"How are we doing today?" the doctor said with a smile.

Sam only shrugged and sighed.

"One of those days huh?" Sam saw the doctor share a look with Dean. He knew it shouldn't make him feel angry, but it did.

A nurse walked into the room carrying supplies.

The doctor grabbed Sam's left arm first and slowly undid the bandages. He let out a soft 'tsk tsk.' Sam could see the cut was slightly reddish around the edges and a few stitches looked strained, if not broken.

"Looks like you pulled a few of these stitches," the doctor said disapprovingly.

Sam thought quickly.

"It was itchy," he said trying to look sheepish.

The doctor looked at Dean, who merely looked at Sam.

The quirk of the doctor's mouth told Sam the doctor didn't quite believe him. But the man didn't call him out on it. He moved onto Sam's other wrist, which other than being a little pink, were much better off.

"I'll have to stitch this back up," he said looking at Sam as if he could see right through him. He briefly left the room, allowing the nurse care for Sam's arm. When he returned, he had all the necessary supplies to redo the stitches on Sam's left arm.

Sam didn't say anything as the doctor got to work. The pain distracted him from his mixed up thoughts and gave him something to focus on. But all too soon it was over.

"Don't scratch," the doctor said with a sigh, pointing a finger at Sam. "I mean it. It will only keep you in here longer."

Sam nodded looking properly chastised.

"Good," the doctor said turning toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The nurse finished up his dressings and then left as silently as she came.

Now it was just him and Dean again. Not wanting to talk, Sam turned onto his side, his back to Dean, and closed his eyes. Sleep came easily.


	6. Chapter 6: Head full of doubt

**Chapter 6 Head full of doubt**

The next morning Sam woke to find a nurse sitting next to him instead of Dean. She was thin and had long straight dark hair in a high ponytail. He found her to be rather pretty. She was reading a paperback novel. She looked up to check on him and did double when she noticed he was awake. She seemed to know what was on his mind.

"Your brother said he went to your home to get grab you some clothes for when you leave here," she said.

She had a soothing voice.

Sam mouthed a silent 'oh.'

"Looks like your breaking out of here today," she said closing her book. "You want something to eat?"

Sam shrugged noncommittally, then shook his head.

The nurse smiled.

"I'll take that as a no," she said with a small smile.

Sam reluctantly returned the gesture. He started rubbing his hands softly. They were freezing cold.

The nurse stood up.

"My name's Abby," she said walking over to a cabinet along the wall across from Sam's hospital bed.

She pulled out a box. She had her back turned to him so he couldn't see just what was inside.

When she turned around, she held several small packets in her hand. She sat back down and tore open one, pulling out something that looked like a teabag.

"Here," she said handing it to Sam. "It's a hand warmer."

Sam took it and held it between his hands savoring the warmth that suddenly filled them.

"Your hands might be doing that for the next couple of days," she said setting the other unopened packets on his bedside table. "Take these with you okay?"

Sam gave a weak smile.

"Thanks," he softly said.

"No problem," she said sitting back down.

A few moments of silence passed by before Abby started speaking.

"I had a friend once," she said. "Last year of high school. She... did what you did... and ended up in the hospital."

Sam was quiet as he listened to her speak.

"I came to visit her and she kept saying her hands were cold," Abby continued. "I found these little warmers and they were a lifesaver for her."

Sam noticed the sadness in her voice as she recalled her friend.

"What happened to her?" he asked quietly.

The nurse sighed and shook her head.

"We graduated high school and went our separate ways," Abby said. "By the time I came back here for Christmas, I found out she killed herself with a gun to the head."

Sam looked away from the nurse and at down at his hands.

"It's not exactly the most appropriate story to tell someone in your position," she said with a grim smile. "But the reality is that most people who attempt this, keep going until they succeed."

Sam saw her look up at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"I've seen how worried your brother has been," she said emotion filling her voice. "I just don't want to see you guys in here again."

Sam look at her and slowly nodded.

"Look at me getting all emotional over you and we don't even know each other," she said trying to lighten the moment. "This is just the first time you've been awake while I've been watching you for your brother."

Sam felt like he should say something, anything at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm not much of a speaker right now," he said looking at his hands.

Abby laughed quietly.

"I completely understand," she said. "My friend, Joannie was her name, wasn't much for talking after her attempt. But after spending some time with the psychologist here, she opened up a bit more. I'm sure he'll be able to help you help yourself."

Sam nodded. He seemed to be doing that a lot right now.

"I've met with him a few times already," Sam said.

"Dale's a good guy," Abby said with a reassuring smile. With a sigh she stood up again. "Since your more awake now, might as well check on your wrists and get you on your way out of here."

She patted his leg on her way out of the room, leaving the door wide open. Minutes later she returned with a doctor in tow.

Just as before, he undid the bandages, checked on the cuts, and replaced the bandages with new ones. When he was done, he handed Sam a small bag, filled with more bandages and ointment and gave him strict instructions for how to care for the wounds.

When the doctor left, Abby put the hand warmers in the bag, then sat back down with her book.

Not too long after that, Dean returned, carrying Sam's clothes. Abby took that as her cue to leave.

But while she left the room to give Sam some privacy while he changed his clothes, Dean did not.

"I'm not leaving you alone," Dean said when he saw Sam's look of annoyance.

Grudgingly Sam took his clothes. Dean turned around and waited for Sam to dress. Sam tested Dean's patience by taking an extra-long time to get his clothes on. It was the only way he could think to show his anger over his brother's over protectiveness, short of yelling at him. But he figured that would hardly help him get out of the hospital and could even back fire and get him stuck here even longer.

Sam felt even more annoyed when he realized he couldn't get his shirt sleeves on by himself because of the bandages on his arms. It hurt too much to try and pull them on, with one hand. With a small voice he asked for Dean's help.

His brother was at this side in a flash and ready to help. He didn't say anything as he gently pulled the sleeves over Sam's arms, but Sam could tell he was just itching to say something.

As soon as Dean was done though, Sam moved toward the door.

"Let's go," he said.

* * *

The ride home was filled with tension though Dean did his best to pretend like nothing was wrong. He kept the music loud and sang along quietly, glancing at Sam every minute or so.

Sam for his part ignored his older brother and tried to focus on anything other than his current situation. That was a tall order though and he found himself absently rubbing his left arm. It was tingling slightly in a very annoying way.

Facing the week ahead felt like a daunting task for Sam. What would he ever do without school to fill his days? And how would he deal with Dean? Despite sleeping the past weekend away, Sam felt exhausted. And the thought of spending the next week with Dean, love him as he may, made him want to cry. He forcefully rubbed his face in an effort to shake off these feelings.

Dean noticed immediately.

"You okay Sam?" He asked barely hiding the worry in his voice.

Sam sighed and watched the remnants of Medford passed by. That was where the nearest hospital was. It was only about 20 minutes away, but it felt like forever to him.

"Sam?" Dean persisted.

"I'm fine," Sam said evenly, not looking away from the window.

Dean dint say another word and for that Sam was grateful.

How had his life come to this? In just a matter of days everything had changed so much. He thought he knew where his life was going. Now it was all a mess. Who knew his biggest dream coming true, would lead to a nightmare. Of course he knew his family wouldn't take the news well. He pretty much counted on that. He just hadn't thought their disapproval would result in a suicide attempt. He still couldn't wrap his mind around that fact.

The evidence was all there, but he didn't feel like he had actually done it. It was a strange situation to be in, but since he had decided to stop fighting his diagnosis, he didn't feel like he could bring it up, without inviting more trouble into his life.

Several more songs played before they reached their humble abode. Though it had only been a few days, it felt like he hadn't been here in ages; almost as if he had been a different person the last time he had left the house.

He walked into the house trailing after Dean. The first thing he noticed, was how clean it all was. The last he remembered, there had been clothes thrown against one wall, the dishes had yet to be done, one wall had been covered in his dad's research about the werewolf.

Now the dishes were all put away, the clothes were nowhere to be seen and walls were as clean as the day they first came here. There were two duffel bags neatly lined up against the bed. All their weapons were presumably ready to go in the trunk. The place was immaculately clean in a way that told Sam they must be moving on sooner than he thought.

"Earth to Sammy," Dean said staring at him with an amused look from where he stood by the sink. "Just going to stand there and stare all day?"

Sam frowned then shook his head. He must be really out of it for Dean to call him out like that.

"When are we leaving?" he asked.

Dean turned around and leaned against the counter top.

"Leaving," he asked confused, "What would give you that idea?"

Sam walked toward the couch.

"It all so clean," he explained. "I just figured..."

Dean nodding then turned around, opening a cupboard and grabbing a glass. He filled it with water from the tap.

"What can I say," Dean said. "Even I have my limits about how messy a place can get. I cleaned up."

Sam mouthed a surprised 'oh.' Dean did have his moments. But they came few and far between. He uneasily sat down on the far end of the couch. He still couldn't help but feel like something was still off about the space.

"Where's my backpack?" Sam asked sitting up and turning to look at Dean.

Dean put down his now empty glass.

"Don't worry geek boy," he said walking toward Sam. "I talked to your principal this morning. They convinced one of your nerdy little friends to bring it over along with your assignments after school, which should just be few hours."

Sam still felt uneasy. Then it occurred him just why.

"My knife," Sam said abruptly, as Dean moved to sit down next to him. "Where's my knife?"

Dean look at Sam with a look Sam couldn't place.

"Your knife is safe, don't worry," he said picking up a newspaper from the coffee table in front of it.

"And?" Sam asked, holding his hand out.

Dean looked at Sam disbelievingly.

"You can't be serious," he said tilting his head. "You go and try to off yourself with that knife and you expect me to hand it right back to you? I don't think so."

Sam immediately started glaring at Dean.

"I'm not going to kill myself," he said with a huff.

"That's because I'm not giving you a chance," Dean said turning a page of the newspaper, ignoring Sam.

"You just going to leave me defenseless then?" Sam said his anger showing in his rising voice.

"I'm here, you're not in any danger, except from yourself," Dean said staying unflinchingly calm.

Sam crossed his arms across his chest angrily.

"I never hurt myself in the first place," he muttered.

"What was that?" Dean asked sternly, turning another page of the newspaper.

"Nothing," Sam said stubbornly.

He sulked for a few minutes before he spoke again. Dean continued to turn the pages of his newspaper loudly and it was getting on Sam's nerves.

"I bet you took out every possible things that could be used as a weapon in here, am I right?" he said evenly.

"That would be correct," Dean said keeping his eyes on the newspaper.

Sam let his head fall back on the couch with a loud sigh.

"What's next, you going to take away all the dishes and replace them with paper, just in case?" Sam said sarcastically.

Dean smirked and turned another page.

"Already done," he said with a small smile.

"Oh come on!" Sam threw his hands into the air angrily and stood up facing Dean.

"So this is how it's going to be?" he said, suddenly feeling like he was going to cry. "I can't go to college, and I can't kill myself. My only option is to stay with you and dear old dad until we all bite the dust at the hand of some fugly monster?!"

Sam growled angrily and walked away from the couch throwing himself into the bed like the dramatic teenager he was.

"I thought you said you didn't try to kill yourself," Dean's smug voice drifted to where Sam lay on his back.

Angrily he turned onto his stomach and put a pillow over his head to block out his annoying brother's voice.

It wasn't long before he fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Sam woke to the sound hushed voices at the front door. He was now laying on his back, the pillow was lying against the wall beside him. Sam shook his head. Dean probably thought he was trying to suffocate himself. It hurt that Dean so easily believed that he'd be so willing to kill himself. Didn't Dean think better of him? Obviously not.

He sat up and looked at the door. It was slightly open. He could see Dean's shadow. Quietly, he got up and padded over the door. It didn't take him long to figure just who Dean was speaking to.

"He told me I wouldn't understand," Cooper said.

"We move around a lot," Dean explained. "It's complicated."

"I just want to be friends," Cooper said sadly.

"Sam's just going through a tough time right now," Dean answered.

Sam narrowed his eyes. He hated when people talked about him like he was problem that needed to be solved.

"Tell him I hope he feels better soon," Cooper said.

"Yeah, of course," Dean said. "I'll be sure to get this to him. He'll love the distraction,"

"Maybe I could come back tomorrow and just talk with him?" Cooper added hopefully.

Sam heard Dean sigh.

"We'll see," he replied. "Sam's kind of all over the place right now."

"I understand," Cooper said.

"I better get back inside," Dean said awkwardly.

Sam had to smile at the trouble he was having getting rid of the pesky teen.

"Okay," Cooper said sounding unsure of himself "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam quickly back away from the door as Dean came back in and quickly shut the door behind him.

Sam couldn't help but feel a little satisfied when Dean let out a surprised gasp when he noticed he was awake and up.

Dean took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke.

"Were you listening the whole time?" he asked.

Sam shrugged then noticed just what Dean was carrying in his arms.

"My backpack," Sam stated with a small smile. He made to grab it, but Dean held tight.

"Not so fast Einstein," he said sitting down on the couch.

Sam watched as he opened the bag, and started pulling out books and setting them on the coffee table.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sam said rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to kill myself with some books."

Dean kept at it.

"I don't know," he said, "The way you study all the time, it's not natural."

Sam didn't rise to the bait. He didn't like the way Dean sounded so halfhearted. He'd noticed it during their earlier argument, but he'd been too angry to properly recognize what he was seeing. It seemed like he wasn't the only person out of sorts in this family.

When Sam didn't say anything Dean paused what he was doing to look at him.

In that moment Sam could see the fear in his brother's eyes. He was scared. But not of Sam. He was scared for him. There was something else in his gaze, but Sam couldn't decipher it at the moment.

"Are you done invading my privacy yet?" Sam prompted, gesturing to his backpack.

He didn't want to look into Dean's eyes any more than he already had. He needed a distraction.

A few minutes later Dean seemed satisfied there wasn't anything suspicious in Sam's backpack.

"Have at it," he said with the wave of a dismissive hand.

Sam only too happily obliged, but before he could really get a good look at the folder of homework assignments cooper had thrown in with his book, Dean cleared his throat.

"Don't get too involved just yet," he said. "I'm hungry. Homework can wait."

He barely had any time to close his book before Dean threw his leather jacket into Sam's lap.

"Put it on," he said heading toward the door.

"What about you?" Sam was stunned.

Dean looked this coat almost as much as he loved The Impala. He had gotten it from their dad as a gift for his 16th birthday. In that time, he'd never let Sam wear it.

"I'll live," Dean assured Sam as he reached for the door handle.

"I'll just wear mine," Sam said offering the jacket back to Dean.

Dean stopped and took a deep breath.

"You were wearing it when you..." he let the sentence trail off as he turned to face Sam. "Believe me, you don't want it anymore. It was getting too small for you anyway."

Sam could sense that Dean felt guilty. But none of this was his fault. Sam might be annoyed as hell at his brother's protectiveness right now, but deep down, he understood where it was coming from. This guilt? That he didn't' understand, and he didn't want to see it in his brother's eyes.

"It's not your fault," Sam said sadly.

Dean only turned around and walked out the door.

"You coming or not?" he shouted behind him.

Sam figured the least he could do was wear the coat, so he quickly put it on and rushed out the door.

Sam was content to let Dean fill the silence as they drove to the short distance to the nearest diner. The sun was setting on Phoenix, casting an orange glow on the sleepy little area.

It seemed the whole town was gathered at Debby's diner. But somehow, Dean was able to grab a table at the back of the small restaurant. Sam took one look at the menu and he knew why Dean was so eager to eat here.

"Look at that pie," Dean said looking like Christmas had arrived. "And there's a different special every day!"

Sam only rolled his eyes with a small smile.

When the waitress came by, they gave their orders. Dean ended up getting a greasy order of a burger, fries, and two slices of apple pie. Sam stuck with a simple chicken salad and left it at that. He had yet to feel seriously hungry ever since he got home.

He was half way through picking at his salad when Dean pushed his empty plate away and cleared his throat.

Sam hesitantly looked up from his salad at his older brother.

"Listen, uh Sammy," Dean said sounding unsure of himself. "I... know thing have been tough... you know, for the past few days."

Sam wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment. He did not want to talk about this.

"And I know the... things I said to you about Stanford..."

"Dean," Sam said, his voice pleading for Dean to stop.

"If it means so much to you to go," Dean said suddenly looking at his empty plate. "I'd rather you be there, then dead."

Sam didn't know how to reply and when he saw Dean roll his eyes he immediately felt worse. But it turned out Dean was angry at his phone. He watched his brother pull out his cellphone and answer in a huff.

"Yes dad?" Dean said.

Sam picked at his salad as he listened in to the conversation.

"Of course I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" Dean said raising his voice. "I'm not the one who-"

Sam sighed and put down his fork.

"Look are you even going to ask about Sam?" Dean said sounding very angry.

"No we're not leaving, not yet," Dean said. "You said you had Caleb?"

Sam looked down at his lap.

_Great, now dad was going to get killed because of his little stunt._

"Then you don't need us," Dean said. "Sam doesn't need this. You have help, you'll be fine."

Dean put his elbow in the table and rubbed his forehead.

"I have my priorities and you obviously have yours."

Sam bit his lip anxiously.

"You value those people more than-"

Sam closed his eyes as he realized the extent of his father's feelings toward him.

"You know what? I don't have to listen to this," Dean said.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He bolted, practically fleeing from the dinner. He found refuge in the Impala.

Once again he found himself thinking very dark thoughts he never would have let himself think just weeks ago. His so called suicide was really opening his eyes as to how the people closest to him really felt about him. In frustration he crossed his arms across his chest and glared at nothing in particular as he caught Dean rushing out of the dinner out of the corner of his eye.

Sam didn't say anything when Dean opened the driver's side door and sat down beside him.

"Sam," he started. "I'm sorry about that."

Sam only sighed.

"I didn't know he felt that way," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I knew," Sam responded. "You just want to see dad as the perfect father. You've always ignored all his faults."

Dean seemed to be lost for words.

"Can we just go home already?" Sam asked tiredly.

There was silence for a moment, then.

"I really am sorry Sammy," Dean said.

Sam stayed silent and looked out the window as Dean started up the impala and drove out of the parking lot.


	7. Chapter 7: Dark in my imagination

**Chapter 7: Dark in my imagination**

The next morning was dark and cold. Clouds filled the sky. There weren't any cars to fix down at the auto shop so Dean had the day off, but Sam figured he would've skipped out anyway if that wasn't the case. Fixing cars wasn't exactly the first thing on his brother's mind right now.

The way Dean was hovering all over him was starting to drive him crazy. Earlier he'd gone to the bathroom only to find Dean leaning on the door frame when he came back out. And when he was trying to put some jam on his toast Dean had taken the plastic knife from his hand and proceeded to top Sam's toast himself, before he handed the bread back to him. The knife disappeared after that.

Now dean was watching Sam do his homework from his spot next to Sam on the couch. It was getting really hard to focus on his textbook with Dean anxiously looking at him like he was about to do something very stupid at any moment. It was maddening.

Sam's generic ring tone suddenly filled the tense silence. He quickly grabbed it like it was a lifeline and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked standing up. "Who is it?"

"I'm going outside," Sam said. "For some_ privacy_."

Sam aimed a pointed look at Dean telling him to stay put or else.

Sam stepped outside and closed the door behind himself happy to see that Dean had merely gone to the window to keep a watchful eye on him. He could tolerate that for now.

He answered the phone with his back to the front window.

"Hi pastor Jim," Sam said.

"Hey there Sam," Jim replied. "Is everything okay?"

Sam paused for a moment thinking about how he should answer that question.

"Did you tell your family about Stanford already?" Jim said.

Sam sighed.

"Have you talked to my dad? Or Dean?" Sam asked.

"No," Jim replied. "But I had a feeling I should check up on you."

Sam's lips formed a small sad smile at hearing the genuine concern in the other man's voice.

"Last week I... kind of... tried to kill myself," Sam revealed.

There was silence on the other end.

"But I don't remember doing it," Sam quickly added, as if it would dampen the blow.

"Oh Sam," pastor Jim finally said.

Those words seemed to break a dam within Sam and he found himself speaking more than he had in days.

"Dad didn't take the idea of Stanford very well and dean..." Sam swallowed hard. "He didn't even bother waiting to get drunk."

"I can't believe you would want to end it all," Jim said. "That's not you."

Sam let out a derisive laugh.

"That's not what dad and Dean think," Sam said. "They don't really think much of me right now."

"I don't care what they think," Jim said resolutely. I believe in you."

Sam looked over his shoulder and saw dean watching him from between the blinds.

"Dean won't stop watching me," Sam said.

Sam could hear the pastor sigh.

"I bet he's probably driving himself crazy worrying about you," Jim said.

Sam looked at his feet.

"I know," he said. "But I wish he wasn't so quick to believe I would try to kill myself."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked.

"Dean knows how I feel about suicide. He knows me. At least I thought he did," Sam said.

Jim was silent.

"I don't think I did it," Sam said.

"But you just told me..." the pastor trailed off.

Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I know what it looked like," Sam admitted. "And I can't remember much of anything that happened. The doctor says that's because I took some heavy duty antidepressants."

"Drugs Sam?" pastor Jim said in disbelief.

"I don't remember taking anything. _Honestly_."

"So how did you... how were you found?" Jim said choosing his words carefully.

"My arms were slit all the way down to my wrists. Another student found me in the bathrooms. I just remember eating my lunch, then it starts to get fuzzy and then I wake up in the hospital."

Jim seemed to think for a moment.

"Am I right to assume a psychologist was involved in your care?" he said.

"Yeah," Sam answered, "Doctor **Callahan**."

"What was his assessment?" Jim asked.

"To him I'm an overachieving straight-A student who was devastated to find out he'd be moving once again so close to the end of the school year."

"And you didn't tell him your doubts about your suicide attempt?" Jim asked.

Sam shook his head.

"I wanted out of there as fast as possible. If I told him I didn't think I did it, I figure he would've kept me there longer claiming I was in denial," Sam said. "One of the first things he told me was that I needed to accept what I'd done so that I could move on."

Sam could imagine Jim pacing on the other end of the phone.

"You _could _be in denial," Jim said cautiously. I mean… if I didn't know you, all the evidence points to a clear suicide attempt."

Sam stayed quiet.

"Did you tell Dean what you just told me?" Jim asked.

"Not exactly," Sam said.

Jim waited for Sam to explain.

"After all Dean said… I just can't…" Sam sighed. "I don't feel like I can talk to him. I can't look him in the eye. He's so unpredictable, happy and normal one moment, then he suffocating me with his over protectiveness.

"These sorts of situations can affect more than just the person trying to commit suicide Sam," Jim said gravely. "People can make choices, but they can't chose the consequences."

Sam looked at the ground.

"Now I'm not saying you did anything wrong Sam, but I want you to keep that in mind," Jim said. "Especially since you just told me that for all intents and purposes, Dean believes you tried to kill yourself."

Sam could hear Jim moving some papers around in the background.

"I would suggest looking up if there are any past suicides or suspicious deaths at the school," Jim said changing the subject. "You could be dealing with a ghost, a vengeful spirit, a curse; it could be anything."

Sam looked up and saw a person walking down the driveway. It was cooper.

"I gotta go," Sam said.

Jim sighed rather dejectedly on the other end of the phone line.

"Don't lose hope Sam. We'll figure this out," he said. "I promise."

"I know," Sam said. "Thanks... for everything."

Sam hung up his phone just as Cooper stopped in front of him.

"Hey Sam," he said. "How are you doing?"

Sam only shrugged.

Cooper was wearing a dark blue hoody with dark jeans. In his arms he carried a small stack of papers. He was bouncing on his feet. Sam almost resented the other boy for his obvious good mood.

"I got all your assignments from today's classes so you don't get behind."

Sam tried to smile politely but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Thanks cooper," Sam said. "I have yesterdays finished stuff. Just let me grab it"

The other teen smiled.

"No problem," he said.

Sam rushed back inside and grabbed his completed assignments. He couldn't believe Cooper was going out of his way to help him. He had been an outright jerk to the other teen. Cooper just seemed to be willing to forgive and forget.

He rushed back outside and hands the stack of papers to Cooper.

"I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"Sure," Sam replied.

Cooper's kindness was making him reconsider his strict no-friend rule. When he reentered his temporary home, he felt a little lighter.

* * *

Sam's good mood didn't last for long. The next day found him sitting in the office of Doctor Callahan. There were numerous official looking certificates on the wall, complete with shiny seals. Books populated a shelf to his left that reached to the ceiling.

A large mahogany desk separated him and the doctor. Several picture frames stood on the desk next to a computer monitor. From his angle Sam couldn't see just what the pictures were of but he figured they probably pictures of the doctor's family.

"How are you today?" the doctor asked, a disarming smile on his face.

Sam shrugged, then remembered how he was trying to avoid further scrutiny from the doctor.

"I'm doing good," he said, trying to sound upbeat, or at least neutral.

Judging by the way the doctor seemed to relax in his seat, Sam figured his response was just what the doctor was looking for.

"Are you practicing the coping mechanisms we talked about?" Dale asked.

Sam nodded.

In truth he hadn't really spent much time thinking about them, letting alone putting them to practice since he didn't see that as a problem. But the doctor didn't need to know that.

"My brother has been a big help," Sam said.

It was a half truth. Sam could tell Dean was trying to help as best he knew how in his own way. But it was also easy to see Dean was having trouble coping with the fact that Sam had supposedly done what he had. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before Dean finally exploded and told him just what was on his mind, but so far Dean had shown a remarkable ability to hold his tongue.

If things were ever going to get back to some semblance of normal, that was going to have to change.

"How is your father handling everything," Dale asked.

Sam shrugged. He wasn't about to lie about anything having to do with his dad. That was one thing he didn't feel like sugar coating.

"He's working more," Sam explained.

The doctor nodded as if that made all the sense in the world.

"Well Sam," Dale said. "Everyone has their own way of dealing with stressful situations. The most we can do is be as understanding as possible."

Sam nodded. This was fast descending into a chick flick moment that he didn't want to have.

"Some people will try to act normal, as if nothing happened," Dale said. "But eventually, they reach a point where that's not possible."

"On the other hand, some people over-react."

Sam nodded once again.

"My brother is always watching me," Sam said. "He's always there."

Dale smiled.

"I bet that can get really annoying," he said with a knowing look.

Sam smirked.

"He can be quite the mother hen," he said. "But I know he means well."

He sighed and looked at his lap. As frustrated as he was with his brother, Sam knew Dean only acted the way he did because he cared. That only made him feel worse about his current situation. How could he even think of leaving when Dean seemed to need him so much? But how could he ever expect to live his own life, if he never left?

Such thoughts almost made him wish his suicide attempt had been successful.

"Sam are you okay?" Dale asked.

Sam quickly looked up and put a sad smile on his face.

"Yeah, I was just thinking about how Dean took away the butter knife when I was trying to put jam on my toast yesterday," Sam said, trying to steer the Doctor away from things he didn't want to talk about.

The doctor nodded.

"Like I said, people cope in different ways," Dale said leaning forward in his chair. "All you can do is be patient while he learns to trust you again."

Sam frowned.

"He most likely sees your suicide as betrayal," Dale said unflinchingly. "It will most likely take time for him to move past that."

Sam wanted to glare at Dale. He wanted to explain how Dean was betraying him, by so easily believing he would try to end his life. But he wisely kept his mouth shut and only nodded in response.

"Stay strong Sam," Dale urged. "Thing can only get better from here on out. You have a bright future ahead to strive for and a brother who very clearly cares for you deeply."

Sam only looked at his hands.

"I'll see you same time next week okay?" Dale said.

Sam nodded and stood up.

"Can you send your brother in here for a quick word" Dale asked.

"Sure," Sam quietly said as he turned to leave.

A few minutes later he was following Dean out of the hospital, into the parking lot to where the Impala was parked. Sam was dying to ask Dean what the doctor wanted to talk with him about, but the look on Dean's face kept him silent.

Dean's lips were set in a firm line. His jaw was clenched and his gaze was steely cold. The silence reigned as they got into the Impala and pulled out of the parking lot. They stopped off at a grocery store and bought some basics to restock their small kitchen. Throughout the trip Dean stayed silent and barely looked at Sam. It was starting to make himself conscious.

When they finally got back to Phoenix, the sun was starting to set.

Sam helped bring in the groceries all the while wondering what had Dean so quiet. He worked up his courage and finally asked, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

Dean answered the door to find Cooper waiting on the other side.

"Got your daily delivery of homework," he said cheerfully.

Dean smiled politely, but Sam could tell it was fake in the way his brother's eyes stayed cold and hard.

"Hey Cooper," Dean greeted. "I gotta get our dinner. You wanna stay here for a bit with Sam while I get it?"

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. Of course his brother wasn't about to leave him alone.

"Absolutely!" Cooper exclaimed.

"Great," Dean said. "I'll be back in a flash."

Dean quickly glanced at Sam before he left. Sam didn't quite know what to make of his brother's behavior, so he stopped trying and ushered Cooper inside toward the couch.

"You seem to be doing better," Cooper noted taking a seat.

"Really?" Sam said sounding surprised. "Doesn't feel like it."

He was tired of keeping things to himself. Sure he had Pastor Jim, but it wasn't enough. Usually he could count on Dean when he needed to vent. But since his brother was the subject of said venting, that wasn't an option. The thought of talking to his dad made him want to laugh out loud. All he had was Cooper who was more than willing to go to great lengths to be his friend. With no one else to talk to, Sam figured he didn't have anything lose by accepting his offer.

"I don't know how I would be feeling after... everything... but I know I wouldn't be handling it as well as you," Cooper offered. "You just seem like such a strong person."

The statement was so unexpected Sam laughed.

"That's so far from the truth, I don't know what to say."

Cooper smiled.

"It must be great to have a brother like yours," the other teen said. "He must be a big help."

Sam's smile faded a little.

"Yeah, sometimes too much, sometimes not enough," he said. "Depends."

Cooper looked around at the small studio.

"I don't mean to pry," he started. "But where are your parents? I mean, I see your brother..."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, my mom died when I was baby," he explained. "And my dad works a lot."

Cooper frowned.

"Wouldn't he take some time off after... well you know."

Sam shrugged.

"You'd think," he said. "But he's not exactly very fond of me right now. He thinks I'm a coward for what I supposedly did."

Cooper tilted his head.

"Supposed?" he asked, confused.

"You'll think I'm crazy," Sam said. "But I don't think I tried to kill myself."

Cooper raised his eyebrows.

"I know what I saw," he said. "And it pretty much looked like you didn't mean to leave that bathroom alive."

Now Sam was frowning.

"I was the one who found you," Cooper revealed. For a brief moment he had a haunted look in his eyes. "With all that blood, you had to mean it."

Sam looked at his hands.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said trying to inject as much sincerity into his voice as he could.

Cooper put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, at least you're still alive, that's all that matters right?" he said.

Sam smiled with a sigh.

"What makes you think you didn't do it though?" Cooper asked.

Sam rubbed his face.

"I don't remember much leading up to it," he said. "But I know wasn't thinking about suicide at all. It never crossed my mind."

Cooper shook hi head.

"But that knife, why would you carry around a knife like that?" he asked.

Sam shrugged.

"I always carry it," Sam said. "It was a birthday gift from my dad."

"It's weird," Cooper said. "People don't carry around fancy knives. They just don't."

"It's a thing in my family," Sam said. "Can't really explain it better than that."

Cooper shook his head.

"Still strange to me," he said, handing Sam over a stack of papers. "I know only know what I saw."

Sam took the papers and sifted through them as he listened to the other teen.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Cooper said. "But are you sure your not just in denial or something?"

Sam put down the paper on the coffee table in front of him and turned to face Cooper.

"I mean, I'm not a psychologist or anything, just a friend who cares," he said quickly. "I just want you to get better so you can come back to school."

Sam sighed.

"And if you won't accept that you did it, I don't think you can really move on from it," he continued. "I mean, there's no way to prove you didn't do it is there?"

Pastor Jim's suggestion to investigate past suicides came forward in his mind. Maybe there was a way to prove it.

"You never know," Sam said. He decided to change the subject.

"So what's have I missed at school?"

The two spent the next half hour or so talking about teenaged nonsense. It was refreshing to Sam, and welcome relief from the serious things he'd been dealing with the past few days. For a little while he got to be normal and that was just fine with him.

Sam's short respite came to an end with the sound of a key at the door. Dean walked in carrying too paper bags with grease stains on the bottom. Looks like dinner was served.

Cooper stood up.

"I guess that's my cue to go," he said with a bright smile.

Sam felt the tension return in the air.

"Are you sure you have to go?" he said, almost pleading for the other teen to stay so he could avoid having to face being alone with Dean for just a little while longer. "I'm sure there's more than enough to go around."

Cooper shook his head.

"As nice as that sounds, I should really be getting home," he said. "Maybe tomorrow."

Sam sighed.

"Okay," he said. "See you then."

"Great!" Cooper smiled at Sam and Dean, then left.

Dean walked into the kitchen and put the paper bags on the table.

"Come and get it," Dean said taking a seat.

Sam internally groaned eyes as he got up from the couch and made his way to the seat across from Dean at the kitchen table.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

After talking with Cooper, he felt much more talkative and able to confront Dean.

Dean shrugged as he took a bite from his juicy burger.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said, mouth full.

Sam was happy to find Dean had gotten him a salad.

"You were quiet on the way home," Sam said, emptying his bag. "What did the psychologist tell you?"

Dean took another bite.

"Just some nonsense," he said.

Sam raised his eyebrow at Dean as he poured some dressing on his salad.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"He seemed to think I need help dealing with...this situation," Dean answered. "Said you need more freedom."

Sam looked picked at his salad.

"Maybe I do," he said quietly.

Dean lowered his burger and tilted his head.

"Really?" he said with a stern look. "I think too much freedom got you in this situation in the first place. And I think it goes without saying that I'm not the one who needs help."

Now Sam was the one giving the 'really?' look. The gloves were coming off now.

"Yeah, well, those in denial are often those in need of the most help," Sam said.

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a harsh laugh.

"Well then you must be in need of the emergency room," he said. "Didn't you say that you didn't think you tried to kill yourself just a few days ago? I think we all know what happened there."

Sam put down his fork. Suddenly his appetite had just vanished.

"You know what Dean?" he said, steel in his voice. "The doctor's right. You're suffocating me. I get that it's your way to dealing with all of this, but we'll never get any better if you don't find a better way to cope. It's certainly not helping me."

With that Sam stood up and went back to the couch. He grabbed his backpack and pulled out his CD player, angrily stuffing the ear buds into his ears. He grabbed the stack of homework Cooper had given him and got to work.


	8. Chapter 8: Let me go

**Chapter 8: Let me go**

Another day, another trial. Sam laid in the bed he shared with Dean, suffering in silence as his hands kept tingling. They had gone numb sometime in the night and now he was paying the price.

"Rise and shine Sam," Dean said throwing the covers off Sam in one swift movement. "You going to sleep the day away?"

Sam frustratedly clenched his hands as he ignored Dean's cheery attitude. He hadn't slept very well and had yet to say a word to his brother since Dean's little outburst yesterday. He wasn't about to deal with yet another 360 in personality.

"You got to eat something before we go," Dean said.

Sam groaned as he sat up.

Dean turned to face Sam as he poured some cornflakes into a bowl.

"You said you wanted to get out of here for a while," Dean explained. "There a car that need's fixing down at the auto shop."

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he pushed himself off his bed. He forced back a yawn as he walked the short distance to the kitchen table. Angry as he was at Dean, he was starving.

"I figured you could do your homework there, while I worked," Dean said with a bright smile, that didn't reach his eyes.

Sam rubbed his hands together trying to get them warm in vain.

_Oh goody_, Sam thought sarcastically. Another day of being watched like a hawk.

Just because they were going out, didn't really change the fact that Dean would still be there every minute of it all, watching and waiting for him to crack.

He quickly ate in silence before getting ready for the day. After a hot shower his chilly outlook on the day warmed up somewhat, along with his hands. The wounds on his arms were now scabbed over, but he still wrapped them up, unable to stand the sight of them.

The drive to the auto shop was filled with one ac/dc song or another. Sam wasn't really paying attention. He had one goal for the day and that was escaping to the library so he could research past suicides. He would prove he didn't try to kill himself one way or another.

Sam didn't get his chance to leave, until lunch time. He knew if he asked, Dean would either tell him no, or come with him. Both options were not welcome. So he waited until Dean left to go to the bathroom. Dean had told the other guys at the shop to keep an eye on him, but they weren't as aware of his presence as Dean was. They never noticed him slipping out a side door.

He left a note of course. He didn't want Dean to have a heart attack. But he didn't say where he was going, only that he would be back soon. The library was only two short blocks away after all. It wasn't like he was going very far.

However confident he was in his decision, he still made sure to keep as low a profile as he could while he walked. He kept his eyes on the ground, and his hands in his pockets, avoiding the urge to keep looking behind him. He tried not to rush, even though his guilty conscious was telling him to move as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

An anxious 10 minutes later, found Sam walking through the door to the Phoenix city library. He breathed a sigh of relief at having arrived. He quickly made a beeline to the nearest computer and got started on his research.

His initial search proved frustrating. Most of the links had to do Arizona, even when he specifically put Oregon in the search parameters. Sifting through the results he did manage to find that Portland was one of the top cities in the country for suicides. He found a program that was in place at his high school to prevent suicides but had yet to hear of it while actually attending the school. He tried searching the newspaper online, but found the paper had little to no online presence. So far his little escape was proving to be pointless.

He logged of the computer and got up. He went to the librarian. It was time to turn to the local newspapers.

The librarian was about his father age. She wore her dark hair up in a bun. When he told her he needed some help for a school assignment she looked at him suspiciously.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" she asked.

"I didn't feel well this morning," Sam responded.

The woman shrugged and raised her hands.

"Not my place to judge, now what can I do for you?" she asked.

"I'm trying to find out about past suicides here," Sam said.

The woman had a knowing look on her face.

"This is about that kid that tried to kill himself last week isn't it?" she asked.

Sam nodded as he tried to come up with something to say.

"Well you've gotta to be a junior or a senior right?" she asked.

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

"Senior," he said.

"My daughter's a sophomore," the librarian said. "The school's all about suicide prevention now. That's what this is about right?"

Sam breathed an internal sigh of relief as he nodded solemnly.

"Well the newspaper won't have any record of any suicides," she said. "They don't report 'em."

Sam looked down at his hands.

"Lucky for you, I'm better than any newspaper," the woman said. "I grew up in this town. There's only been one that I can recall."

Sam looked up.

"Joannie Smith, shot herself in the head, oh about maybe seven, eight years ago. It was thanksgiving time. It was her second time."

Sam frowned. That was the name of the friend the nurse had talked about.

"Why did she do it?"

The nurse had never given a reason.

"Her father was abusing her," the woman said. "She never said a word, but wrote it all out in her diary terrible stuff. The man went straight to jail. He was found dead in his cell a couple of years ago. You know prisoners never take that sort of crime very well."

Sam struggled to keep a straight face. If there was nothing supernatural about her suicide, then what did that mean for him?

"Have there been any suspicious deaths around here?" he was grasping at straws now.

The woman shrugged.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. There was this accidental shooting a while back, a couple of car wrecks with people from out of town. But those were practically in Medford," she said. "This town's a pretty safe place."

Behind him, Sam heard the door open.

"There you are."

Sam looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath before turning around.

Dean stood at the door, positively radiating anger.

"I turn around for one moment and you give me the slip. Really?"

Dean marched up to Sam and grabbed his arm.

"Sir! this is a library!" the librarian furiously whispered.

Dean gave her a challenging look that made her take a step back.

Sam looked at the woman and mouthed a silent 'sorry' as he let Dean drag him out of the library.

Once outside, Sam yanked his arm out of Dean's grasp.

"How dare you!" Sam said.

Dean tilted his head.

"How dare I?" he said. "How dare I care whether you're okay or not? How dare I care about whether you're gonna take your own life? How dare you!"

Sam glared at Dean.

"Maybe if you didn't care so much, then maybe you wouldn't make me feel so guilty about wanting to leave."

Dean shook his head, then pointed a finger at Sam.

"See, I knew it," Dean accused. "I knew you tried to kill yourself to get back at me, I knew it!"

Sam felt like screaming at the sky.

"That's the lousiest thing I've ever heard," Sam spat out. "How's killing myself supposed to make me feel better? In case you didn't know, the dead don't feel anything."

"But the living do," Dean said. "It must have been a comforting thought thinking about how much it would hurt me, to know you died because of me."

"You know what Dean, stop," Sam said. "Just stop."

He was fast reaching his breaking point. His eyes were welling up with tears.

"You wanted to me to talk, so now I'm talking," Dean said sarcastically. "It's not so nice when you hear about the consequences of your actions is it?"

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He angrily pushed Dean back.

"What do you want me to say?!" he yelled. "You want me to say I messed up? You want me to say I was wrong for wanting to go to Stanford? That I'm a selfish brat?!"

Dean pushed back.

"I want you to admit what you did," he said in a deadly serious voice. "None of this denial crap."

Sam stared at Dean, his heartbeat pounding in his head.

"You know why I was here?" Sam said. "I was researching past suicides."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"And what did you find?" he said.

Sam shook his head.

"I found only one," Sam answered. "And it was far from supernatural related. You happy?"

When Dean said nothing, Sam exploded.

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!" he yelled at the sky, "Psycho Sam Winchester did in fact try to kill himself."

He started laughing.

"Psycho Sam," he said. "I should put that on a t-shirt."

Dean looked at Sam with worry in his eyes.

"Is that enough for you?" Sam said shaking his head, tears starting to fall down his face. "No more denial."

"Sam-"

"No," Sam said. "Actually, I don't care what you think. And I don't care what dad thinks either. You guys are doing what I couldn't."

"What's that?" Dean asked quietly.

"Killing me," Sam answered, "Only instead of a quick death, this is much slower, and much more painful than slit wrists ever could hope to be."

Sam quickly brushed by Dean and started running. He wasn't about to listen to anything Dean had to say in response to that.

He ran to the auto shop and grabbed his things. On his way back out, Dean was standing there, out of breath.

"I'm going home," Sam said simply. Then he walked around Dean, who said nothing as he walked away.

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Sam was able to focus on his homework. It was a welcome distraction after the scene he'd made at the library. A part of him wished he could take it all back, while the other part of him was thrilled to have let out all that pent up emotion. That side of him was also happy to have left Dean speechless. More than anything though, he felt guilty.

As he finished the last of the day's homework, all the confusing feelings he'd been burying, came rushing back at full force. He couldn't get the words of their argument out of his head. That and the fact that he had actually tried to kill himself. Shame filled him at the idea.

Dean was nowhere to be seen, which was both good and bad. Good because he had no idea what he would say to him and bad because he didn't feel like he should be alone.

There was a knock at the door.

Sam stood up from his spot on the couch and walked to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw it was Cooper. Relief filled him as he went to open the door.

"Homework delivery for Sam Winchester," Cooper said with a cheesy smile, as he held up the stack of papers like they were a trophy.

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile and reached out the take the papers.

"Thanks Cooper," he said. "Let me grab my finished stuff."

He left the door open as he walked back to the coffee table and set the stack down, then reached for his finished homework.

Cooper stepped inside and looked around.

"Where's your brother?" Cooper asked. "Every time I've seen you he's been hovering around."

Sam let out a nervous laugh.

"We had a bit of a fight," Sam answered. "Looks like it just gonna be me here tonight."

Cooper frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Sam shrugged.

"More or less," he said.

Cooper tilted his head, doubt in his eyes.

"You wanna grab something to eat?" he said. "My treat."

Sam shrugged, then smiled.

"Why not?"

The weather was nice for the short walk to Debby's diner. The sun was turning orange as the sun began to set. There were a few wispy clouds in the sky. This time, rather than sit at the back, Sam let Cooper pick a table near the front door right next to the wide windows.

When the waitress came to take their orders, Sam asked for his usual salad. Cooper ordered a burger and fries, and two pieces of chocolate pie.

The pie reminded Sam of Dean. The thought must have shown on his face.

"Are you okay?" Cooper asked, tilting his head.

"Huh?" Sam said as he was brought back to the moment. "Oh, Yeah, of course."

He shook his head then smiled at Cooper.

"Just thinking is all," he said trying to reassure the other teen.

"So that's how you get good grades," Cooper said.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Something like that," he said.

"I bet you're just itching to get to that homework I brought you," Cooper teased.

Sam decided he wasn't about to let his dark thoughts ruin the one bright spot in his life. He was going to enjoy this short time away from his demons while he could.

"What can I say? I'm a nerd through and through," Sam plastered a grin on his face.

He was going to fake it, 'till he made it.

Soon enough their food arrived at their table. Both teens hungrily dived into their meals. They ate in companionable science.

All around them the dinner was starting to fill up. Idle chatter filed the air. A small TV was tuned into the local news.

_"An animal attack kills a hiker outside of phoenix._

That made the hairs on Sam's neck stand up. His dad had been hunting a werewolf just a week ago.

But just as soon. As the thought came, doubt began to creep in. Not everything bad was supernatural relayed. His suicide attempt was evidence of that.

Animal attacks happened. People died. That was the world they lived in.

_"This is the second attack this week. Police say they're are similar to incidents that happened in Roseburg over the past three months."_

San put down his fork.

"_The forest service is blaming the attacks on a cougar but they say it's unusual for the animal to wander so far from its established territory."_

"Earth to Sam," Cooper said waving a hand in front of Sam's face.

Sam frowned.

"I asked you what you favorite football team is."

Sam looked at the little TV and shrugged. The news anchor was talking about something else now.

"Don't tell me you're a news junky?" Cooper asked exasperatedly.

"Do you get a lot of animal attacks around here?" Sam asked.

Cooper raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"Once in white sure, but not this time of year."

Cooper laughed.

"Unless you're planning a camping trip I don't think you have anything to worry about."

San laughed nervously as he noticed the impala pass by the window.

He waited to hear the sound if the impala pull into the parking lot, but it never came. And seven there was no sign of Dean in the minutes that followed, Sam was finally able to breath.

The fact that he was so on edge at the very thought of being around his brother made him feel like crap. He loved his brother. He shouldn't feel this way. Everything was so messed up right now and he didn't know how to fix it, or if he even wanted to.

He sighed.

"You know what Cooper? I really think I should be getting home now," Sam said.

Cooper frowned.

"You're not having a good day are you?"

Sam smiled sadly. Cooper was very perceptive.

"Thanks for dinner, I really appreciate it," Sam said.

"No problem dude," Cooper said with a smile. I'll walk with you. I live down that way anyway."

As they walked Sam looked around himself with a new perspective. He saw all the people going about the end of their days. He saw kids playing on front lawns, parents arriving home for diner, the light of TVs through windows in the reading light.

Watching these people made him realize he would never have any part of it. He would forever be running from death, bouncing from city to city, saving people who would never know about his sacrifice. Sure it sounded noble, but all he could feel at the thought was an all-encompassing feeling of extreme loneliness. He wanted to live. He want to have a life that didn't revolve around the darkness and death. He wanted to have nights like tonight. He wanted to have friends to hang out with and people who he could care about and be cared about by, who weren't family.

He was drowning in the darkness and he hadn't realized it until his suicide attempt. Oh the irony. Now he knew he'd rather die than be forced to live in the darkness, like his family did.

"Look I don't want to overstep any boundaries, but I can feel your depression from a mile away," Cooper said suddenly.

For someone who already felt bad, the statement made him feel even worse.

"Sorry," Sam said quietly.

"No, don't apologize," Cooper said. "Are they giving you anything for depression right now?"

Sam shook his head. The psychologist had decided his suicide attempt was related to stress rather than depression and thus hadn't prescribed him anything.

"I don't want to get in trouble or anything, so promise me you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."

Sam nodded.

"I promise."

Cooper swallowed.

"I have some ativan if you need it," he said. "It's an antidepressant, makes you feel super calm."

"I know what it is," Sam said. He didn't say the doctors had found it in his system after his attempt. He was too busy trying to think of why Cooper would have the drug.

"I got it from a friend," Cooper said quietly. "It will help you sleep."

While Sam hated the thought of drugs, he wanted so badly to sleep, and to do so without any bad thoughts plaguing his mind

Besides, he already tried to kill himself. What was a little drug use after that?

"Okay," Sam said.

Cooper smiled.

"Things will get better, I promise."

Sam sighed, he wished people would stop telling him that because he knew that was far from true.

* * *

It didn't take long to get the pills. Cooper lived just a few streets away in a well taken care of two story red brick house. The plush lawn was immaculate and featured a flower lined brick pathway that cut down the middle of the lawn leading from the street to the door.

Inside, Cooper's mom was typing away on a laptop at the kitchen table. She was very polite but was brisk. She seemed to on a schedule and she meant to stay on it. Cooper's dad was running late from his job. What he did, the other teen never said.

The house was extremely clean and orderly. It featured a light and open layout and plush dark furniture making for a nice contrast design-wise. Pictures of happy smiling people were hung on the walls. He could only presume they were of Cooper and his family.

Coopers room was a little messy with clothes scattered on the floor and papers haphazardly laying on a desk beside his bed. But he seemed to where everything was. Cooper went straight for the closet and reached to the top, pulling out several small zip lock bags filled with pills. It was much more than Sam was expecting Cooper to have. The other teen grabbed one packet and handed it Sam.

"Wow," Sam said, staring the pills in his hand. "This is a lot."

Cooper laughed nervously.

"Just don't get in trouble okay?" he said.

Sam nodded.

"Well, I guess I should go," Sam said. "Thanks for dinner... and.. stuff."

Cooper smiled.

"Anytime."

As soon as he left the house, Sam's tenuous good mood evaporated. The growing darkness pressed on him harder, the closer he got to home. The pills felt like lead in his pocket. His feet dragged on the cement. But try as he might, he couldn't postpone the inevitable. In what seemed like no time, he was at the front doorstep, with his hand on the door knob.

The impala was parked behind him... meaning Dean was home.

He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. In the dim light, he could see Dean sprawled out on the couch dead to the world. He didn't want to wake him, so he turned on the light above the kitchen stove. The sight before didn't get any better in the clarity of better lighting. Several beer cans were scattered around Dean. One can lay its side on the coffee table, contents spilled out onto a pile of papers, that had half fallen to the ground.

With dread, Sam realized that was the homework Cooper had brought him just hours ago. He rushed over and tried to salvage the situation, but dropped the paper in disgust when he saw they were soaked through and reeked of beer. He could only imagine how bad it would look to turn in his assignments when they smelt of alcohol.

He looked at Dean lying there in the silence and felt resentment. Why couldn't he just enjoy the life they had? Why couldn't be easily satisfied by the hunt, a pretty woman, and a good beer? Why did he want the things he couldn't have? And most of all, why did his desires have to hurt the ones he loved? And why did they have to hurt him in the process?

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of pills. He opened it and grabbed one, dry swallowing it in the next moment.

So many questions and no answers. He couldn't live like this; in constant disarray; hostage to his ever changing emotions. And it would never get better. Ever since he found out about the truth beyond the darkness, he'd always feared whether his family would make it through the next one in one piece. He couldn't bare living like that any longer. He didn't want to be left behind.

In the strange calmness that suddenly swept over him, he realized something important.

Now he knew.

He'd had the right idea trying to end it all. He'd just gone about it the wrong way. Yes, that was it.

He sat down on the bed and put his hand in his pocket. The pills were right there. All he had to do was take them all and go to sleep. Dean wouldn't be able to do anything. And by the time he realized anything was off, Sam would be long gone.

Sam shook his head.

That was a stupid idea. If he left the world that way, he'd always be remembered as a failure; a coward. He didn't want to be remembered like that. He needed a more worthy death. Something that would leave the right mark on his family and maybe even teach them a lesson.

He thought of the animal attack he'd heard about earlier. Everything was telling him it was supernatural related. Whether it was a wendigo or a werewolf, it was deadly. He would kill it to show his family he was a worthy hunter, but not before he sustained life threatening wounds. Then at least they would be at peace knowing he'd done his duty in saving people, hunting things; the family business. All that nonsense.

Decision made, he smiled. The pills really did work. He took one more for good measure, then laid back on the bed. He didn't bother changing his clothes as the urge to sleep overcame him.


	9. Chapter 9: Only in the shadows

**Chapter 9: Only in the shadows**

The next morning dawned cold and bleak. Sam woke up in the same spot he fallen asleep in, fully dressed and slightly confused. He couldn't remember going to bed. He couldn't even remember coming home.

Dinner. He had eaten dinner with Cooper. Then they'd gone to his house. Sam ran a hand through hair. Cooper had given him something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag full of pills. Once he realized what they were, and what they were for, he quickly stuffed them back in his pocket and looked for Dean.

Sam frowned when he walked over to the couch and saw Dean lying there sound asleep surrounded by beer cans. It felt like Deja vu. He caught sight of his ruined homework and a vague feeling of disappointment filled him.

He didn't want to be here. He needed to be anywhere but here. But first he needed to clear his head.

A hot shower and change of clothes did wonders for his mental clarity. However it only made he feel worse because being able to clearly think, made him remember why his life was so messed up.

A buzzing sound brought him out of his miserable thoughts. It was coming from Dean's phone which was sitting on the floor next to the couch. Not wanting to wake Dean, Sam grabbed the phone and silenced it. He looked at who was calling and saw it was their dad and this wasn't the first time he'd called today either. There were four missed calls.

Sam went back to his bed and grabbed his coat. He pulled his own phone out and saw there were no missed calls. Of course his dad wouldn't want to talk to him. But whatever it was his dad wanted to talk about was obviously important. The man wasn't fond about making more calls than he had to.

Sam considered waking Dean, but quickly dashed the thought to pieces. He didn't want to deal with a hung over brother. He set Dean's phone on the coffee table. He eyed his messed up homework then looked at his watch. If he left right now, he could make to his first class and talk to his teachers. He wasn't supposed to be back at school until Monday. But how bad could it be coming back one day earlier?

He put on his coat and went back to the coffee table. As quietly as he could, he put all his school books back in his backpack. Then he slowly opened the front door and closed it behind him.

* * *

As he sat through his first class of the day, Sam was starting to see why the psychologist had told him to take a break from school. All the stares and poorly concealed whispers were driving him crazy and making him paranoid.

When the bell finally rang he breathed a sigh of relief. He let the other students go past him as he slowly approached his teacher.

"Hey Sam, didn't expect to see you until Monday."

Sam shrugged. Mr. Troy sat on the corner of his desk.

"I got bored," he said with a small smile.

Mr. Troy tilted his head in understanding.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," he said.

"Something like that," Sam said. "Would it be possible to get another copy of yesterday's homework? I spilled something on them."

"Absolutely," Mr. Troy said Standing up and reaching down into a drawer. "I should have another copy in here somewhere."

"Thanks," Sam said.

"Here you go," the teacher said standing up and handing Sam a piece of paper. "Just read those chapters in the textbook and write a summary for each one."

Sam nodded

"And feel free to take more time before submitting your work if you need it over the next week or two," Mr. Troy said.

Sam folded the paper and put it in his backpack.

"I'd already be done with yesterday's homework, if I hadn't messed up the paper," Sam said. "Cooper's been really good about taking back my assignments."

Mr. Troy frowned.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"He's been turning in my work," he said.

Mr. Troy crossed his arms and shook his head.

"The homework I've gotten from him, is his own," Mr. troy said. "I just figured you'd hand in your work whenever you were ready."

"Oh," Sam said awkwardly.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for all this." Mr. Troy said with a reassuring smile as the bell rang again. "You better get to your next class."

Sam nodded and left the room in a daze. There had to be a good reason. Maybe Cooper just forgot?

Sam shook his head. That couldn't be it because Cooper always came back the next day to get his next assignment.

As he walked into his next class, he realized he had yet to see the other teen today. They shared almost all their classes, including Mr. Troy's. Cooper hadn't been there.

As he went to his other classes he could only think about Cooper. Was he okay? Had he gotten in trouble because of the drugs? Suddenly the pills felt like lead in his pocket. As the stares and whispers continued around him, his paranoia grew that they knew just what was in his pocket. Accepting those pills had been a bad idea. Now he itched to get rid of them.

He struggled to keep his cool as he talked to his teachers. Each one told him the same thing. Cooper had never turned in his finished homework.

By the time lunch arrived, Sam felt so trapped he practically ran for the exit. Once outside though, he faced a different type of anxiety.

"Where do you think you're going?"

It was Dean. And he was angry; very angry.

"I wake up and you're nowhere to be seen," Dean said, his eye blazing. "For all I know, you could've..."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You were drunk as a skunk, out like a light all night," Sam said, venom in his voice. "If I'd wanted to... do... something... I would've done it then. And there would have been nothing you could've done about it."

Dean seemed taken aback at those words.

Sam sighed.

"Can we just go home?" he asked. He didn't have the patience to deal with Dean and he didn't want to make a scene.

Dean nodded and turned toward the parking lot. Sam followed. Once inside the Impala Dean didn't rush to put the key in the ignition.

Sam didn't say anything.

"I talked to dad," Dean said finally.

Sam looking out his window, avoiding Dean's gaze. Things never went well when their dad was mentioned.

"He thinks there's a werewolf here," Dean continued.

Sam eyes widened briefly. He forgotten about the animal attacks.

"The one in Roseburg had a mate, but he could never find it," Dean explained. "All evidence pointed to the mate moving on weeks ago."

Sam continued to look out his window as he processed the information.

"He wants us to go after it," Dean said.

Sam's head whipped around.

"Excuse me?" he said sharply.

Hunting was the last thing on his mind right now. He couldn't be thinking about killing something else while wanted to kill himself.

"He's on his way right now, but he wants us to narrow down its location."

Sam Shook his head and clenched his fists.

"Look we got to put aside our issues for now, and get this done, or else more people will die," Dean said, pleading with Sam to go along with their dad's orders.

Sam smirked and said nothing. He looked out his window as Dean started up the Impala and pulled out of the parking lot.

If Dean and his dad wanted to act like his issues were something to be swept under the rug, then they weren't worth sticking around for.

If he had his way, this would be his last hunt. Yes there would be more deaths, but he was only planning on two: the werewolf, and himself.

* * *

The sun was starting to set as Sam and Dean finished their preparations for the night ahead. Sam hadn't spoken much and Dean hadn't tried to get him to say anything, so silence reigned in the small dwelling.

Dad had yet to check in. And that had Sam on edge. He wanted to get out there before their dad arrived. He had no desire to see the man again.

Both of them were sitting on the couch loading silver bullets into their guns. Dean had watched Sam like a hawk all afternoon. Whenever he had to use the bathroom, Dean made sure he wasn't trying to make off with a gun. It made Sam furious.

Dean's ring tone filled the air. Sam bit it lip as his brother answered.

"Yeah," Dean said. "We're almost ready."

Sam rolled his eyes as he set a gun on a map on the table.

"Another attack?" Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean.

"Yeah, I know."

Dean didn't even say goodbye as he ended the call.

"Dad will be here soon," Dean said.

Sam looked back at the guns on the table.

"But he wants to head out first and get the lay of the land."

There was a knock at the door.

Sam jumped in surprise. Feeling anxious, he quickly stood up, knocking his coat off the couch. Cautiously he opened the door, only to be deeply relieved when he saw it was Cooper.

"Hey Sam," Cooper said cheerfully, pushing past Sam into the house.

He immediately stopped when he caught sight of the shotguns on the table.

"Woah," Cooper said, his eyes wide. "Those are some... nice... guns."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Yeah, uhmm, we like to hunt?" he said sounding unsure.

Cooper turned back to face Sam.

"No way! So do I," he said. "Me and my dad go at least once a month. Although I've never gone at night."

"Oh we're not going out now," Sam said, trying to sound casual.

Dean was focused on something in his hands, and wasn't really paying attention to Cooper.

"Come on man, you're fully dressed," Cooper said. "And you have that look in your eye."

Sam frowned and looked at Cooper like he was crazy.

"What look?" he said dismissively.

"The look that says you're ready for some action," Cooper smiled. "Can I come?"

Sam shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Dude, don't worry, I know what I'm doing, you don't have to worry about me," Cooper said. "I'll just go get my dad's rifle."

Sam smirked.

"Like your parents are going to let you do that," Sam said.

Cooper only smiled.

"My parents trust me," he said. "They let me do whatever I want."

Sam frowned. He didn't like the way that sentence sounded.

"Where were you today?" Sam asked, changing the subject. Maybe he distract Cooper. Besides he was itching for an answer about his homework.

"What do you mean?" Cooper asked confused.

"At school," Sam continued. "Where were you today?"

"You went?" he said sounding surprised.

Sam had the strangest feeling that Cooper was lying, but about what, he couldn't tell.

"I had a doctor's appointment," he answered. "I thought you weren't going back until Monday? I would've been there for sure if I'd known."

Sam bit his lip. The explanation was sincere, but he couldn't help but have a bad feeling about this.

"What about my homework?" Sam asked.

Cooper shrugged.

"I figured I turn it in on Monday, when you came," he said. "I'll be right back okay?"

Before Sam could say another word, Cooper disappeared out of the front door.

"What is this Sam?" Dean asked behind him.

Sam was staring at the front door. He turned around to face Dean.

He was holding up a bag of pills.

Sam took a deep breath.

"Drugs Sam?" Dean's voice was getting progressively angrier.

All Sam could do was shrug.

"I only took them once," he explained.

Dean snorted.

"Yeah, that's why you keep in your coat pocket," he said disbelievingly. "Easy access to your next hit."

Sam made a pass to grab the bag from Dean, but Dean was quick to react.

"I don't think so," he said, stashing the pills behind the couch. "We'll talk about this when we get back. We have more important things to worry about right now."

Sam shook his head.

"Don't we always," he muttered.

Dean sighed.

"Look I didn't mean it like that," Dean rubbing his eyes.

"Sure you didn't," Sam said bitingly.

He walked over to the guns.

"Can I have one of these now?" he said.

Dean hesitated before replying.

"You're just carrying them to the car."

Sam rolled his eyes, as he did what he was told.

Minutes later they hit the road.


	10. Chapter 10: Animal

**Chapter 10: Animal**

The drive to the camp ground where the attacks happened was made in silence. The mood was tense inside the impala. Every couple of minutes Dean would look at Sam like he meant to say something. Then he seemingly though better of it and looked back at the road. Sam could see him out of the corner of his eye.

He was still angry at Dean and of course furious with their dad, but the closer he got to their current destination, the more at peace he felt. Soon this would be all over and he could stop being such a failure at life.

The area they were driving to, was be on the way to a popular lake where lots of young people liked to hang out on the weekends. Since it was a Friday night, there would be lots of options for a vengeful werewolf on the prowl.

It didn't matter that it wasn't the full moon. Dad had drilled in him the unpredictability of the supernatural. Sam was well read in the lore and even then, he was still finding new variations of dark creatures and how they lived and survived. He was quick to adapt. It was why they were still alive now.

Hopefully that quality would help him tonight.

The one lane road eventually turned into dirt and soon they pulled off to the side, hiding among the trees. They weren't going all the way to the campground. The actual attacks happened in the surrounding area. Sam got of the car and took a deep breath of the forest air. The skies were clear, the half moon shined bright above, leaving the trees frosted with the dim glow of moon light.

They both went for the trunk, and geared up for the hike ahead. Silently, they stepped into the forest to meet their fate.

* * *

Hours later, they had yet to find any sign of the supposed werewolf. Sam was starting to doubt there was anything out here other than the typical wildlife that inhabited this area.

Suddenly there was the sound of a snapping twig.

Sam raised his gun in a flash and turned toward the sound. Dean did the same.

The tree rustled to his lift. He adjusted his position accordingly. Now he could hear careful footsteps approaching them.

Sam could hear his heart pounding in his chest. This was it.

A Shadow came closer. Sam put his finger on the trigger. But as the moonlight fell on the approaching figure, Sam had to swallow back a loud sigh.

It was Cooper.

"Sam!" Cooper exclaimed when he caught sight of him.

Sam quickly dropped the gun.

"Be quiet!" he harshly whispered. "What are you doing here?!"

Cooper raised his hands.

"Why didn't you wait?" he whispered, sounding hurt.

Dean spoke up.

"It's not safe out here," he said.

"Then why are you out here?" Cooper challenged.

Sam shook his head.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Sam said, sounding frustrated.

He had only counted on having to deal with Dean with his little suicide trip, not Cooper. Now there too many variables and too many other people to worry about interfering, or worse, dying.

Even in the dim light, Sam could see the confusion in Cooper's face.

"How did you find us?" Sam spoke softly, trying not to lose his temper.

A frown crossed Cooper's face.

"I saw the map on your table," he answered. "I'm not stupid."

Cooper tone was far from friendly now.

"And I saw your car parked on the side of the road."

"You drove here?" Sam asked.

Cooper tilted his head in annoyance.

"How else do you think I got here?" he said sarcastically.

"All this yacking is gonna get us killed," Dean muttered beside Sam.

In that moment, a loud ferocious growl filled the air. They all looked frantically around themselves. Cooper had no idea what they were hunting. Sam could see the fear in his eyes.

"What was that?" he said quietly.

"You don't wanna know," Sam said.

A twig snapped behind Cooper.

This time, Sam was sure it was the werewolf.

Cooper turned around and caught sight of the approaching creature. The snarling teeth and dripping drool had him running away in a flash.

Naturally the werewolf followed.

Dean fired off several rounds, but none hit their target.

"Crap," Sam said.

No time like the present to enact his plan. He turned to Dean and gave him an all might punch to the head. He caught him unaware and sent his brother crashing to the ground. If Dean had been expecting it, he never would have gone down so easily. Sam prayed to anyone listening that Dean would be okay as he ran in the direction Cooper had gone.

It didn't take long to find Cooper sprawled at the bottom of a tree, whimpering in fear as the werewolf snarled at him while slowly walking toward him, taunting its prey.

Sam stopped and raised his gun. He aimed at the werewolf and fired a quick shot to the leg. He needed to get the animal focused on him.

Howling in pain, the werewolf quickly turned around to face his attacker. Target in sight, the animal launched itself at Sam.

Sam let it come with open arms. He welcomed the ground when the werewolf knocked him down with a vicious swipe to the chest. The pain caused everything to go black for a second. The feeling was blissfully sweet.

"Hey!," Cooper yelled. "Over here you ugly brute!"

The animal looked up, right as a large rock hit it in the face.

Sam wanted to yell at Cooper to back off, but he couldn't find his voice. Thinking fast, he punched the werewolf in the face. It responded by clawing him across the face then going in for a bite. Using all his strength, he slipped away from the werewolf at the last moment, then raised his gun and shot it in the shoulder. It howled in pain, and rolled away from Sam.

Sam chest burned like fire, and blood dripped into his eyes. He pushed himself into a sitting position. The were wolf seemed to recover fast. It was now on two feet and approaching Cooper was sat where Sam had last seen him at the base of a tree, frozen in fear. He was going to get himself killed.

Sam fired his gun into the air.

"Cooper run!" he yelled.

He werewolf turned to Sam and snarled at the sound of the gun.

Cooper quickly stood up and bolted toward Sam.

"No Cooper, away from me!" Sam yelled waving his hands.

The werewolf pounced on Cooper and raised a claw to go in for the kill.

_Crap!_

There wasn't any time to think of another move. Sam raised his gun and fired at the werewolf. It howled in agony as it backed away from Cooper, and started walked toward him, collapsing along the way.

The area was silent as the werewolf took in its last breath.

Sam watched the werewolf transform back into its human self with sigh. His brilliant plan just went down the drain. Now all he was, was a bleeding mess. He doubted the werewolf had injured him severely enough to leave him the opportunity to bleed out. If only he had his knife.. Then he could make it look like the werewolf had done it, then pass on into the great beyond.

Now he was stuck.

Cooper slowly stood up.

In the light dim light of the half moon, Sam could see Cooper's hands were shaking as he struggled to find the words to express himself. The dead werewolf lay on the ground in between them.

"You saved me," Cooper said.

Sam grimaced as he stood up.

"You really shouldn't have," he said. "I mean, I tried to kill you."

Sam frowned.

"What are you talking about?" he said.

"I didn't mean to hurt you so bad," Cooper forced out. "It was only supposed to be the drugs."

Sam watched Cooper, as a a hundred different thoughts went through his mind. He still was holding the loaded gun. It suddenly felt very heavy in his hand.

"That day in the cafeteria," Cooper continued. "I switched your milk. I added some ativan. Must have been too much. You reacted so strongly to it."

"Excuse me?' Sam said tilting his head.

Things were starting to click in Sam's mind. All around them, a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees.

"I followed you to the bathroom," Cooper talking a step toward Sam. "You were so out of it, and then I saw your knife," Cooper seemed to be lost in a memory. "What a knife."

He paused. Then continued.

"I knew of this girl who, slit her wrists you know?" he said. "Blood everywhere, she was never the same afterward."

He looked at Sam.

"She used to date my brother," he said. "I loved watching her downfall."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I grabbed your knife. You didn't seem to recognize me. I pulled up your sleeves and I just..." he trailed off. "I slit your one wrist, you didn't even fight me. Then I went for the other one."

He took another step toward Sam. The dirt crumbled beneath his feet.

"As I was cutting your other one, I heard someone outside," He stopped seemingly reveling in the moment. "I was distracted. I cut too deep. There was so much blood. I thought I had killed you for sure."

Sam watched Cooper with cold detachment as he tried to connect the story, with what he remembered.

"I washed my hands of all the blood, and ran to get a teacher," Cooper stepped over the dead werewolf. "All that blood and you still held on."

"And my homework?" Sam asked, not liking he was now so close to an obviously disturbed person.

"Par for the course my friend," Cooper said, his eyes shining in the pale moonlight. "You said you wouldn't do my homework for me, but that's what you've been doing all week."

Sam felt the cold metal of the gun in his hand.

"Why?" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why not?" Cooper answered. "You're the smart one, figure it out."

Sam was at a loss. This was out of his league. Where was Dean when he needed him?

Oh, yeah. He'd knocked him. Just another part of his brilliant failure of a plan.

"You come here all high and mighty, with your cool brother and his awesome car." Cooper said waving his arms to emphasize every word. "Perfect grades, teacher's pet. Good looks to get the girls, but you're too good to talk with anyone."

He started shaking his head.

"It's not fair. My brother's, my sisters were all just like that." he said, pacing back and forth in front of Sam. "Smarter than was good for them, too good to mix with the dumb kids like me. They never really liked me growing up. I was the baby of the family, and I was just an intruder to their perfect life."

He smirked.

"I guess every family needs a black sheep."

Sam thought for a moment.

"The drugs," he said.

Cooper tilted his head.

"What?" he asked annoyed.

"Where'd you get the drugs?" Sam asked. His mind was working furiously to connect the dots.

"My mom's a pharmacist," Cooper said as if it were obvious. "Sneaking things from her work is like taking candy from a baby."

He stopped pacing.

"Befriending you was a dead end and Bullying you obviously wasn't working," Cooper said. "And seeing what you did here just now, I understand why."

He walked over the werewolf and nudged it on its side with his foot. Sam was sickened just watching. It was one thing to kill the creature, but to treat it that way afterward was simply disrespectful.

"I needed something more subtle. I've always found the mind to be an interesting thing. My dad's a psychologist you know, in Medford. Good 'ole Dale."

"Dale Callahan?" Sam said, thinking of his psychologist.

Cooper smiled.

"The one and only. I've learned from the best. I've always wanted to see someone destroy themselves up close."

Sam scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Why weren't you in school today?"

Cooper smirked.

"I saw you walk in and I decided it would be best to watch from afar," he answered. "Just seeing how angry your brother was when he found you, was worth the wait."

"You're sick," he said, gripping his gun tight.

Cooper only laughed.

"Sick, but smart," he said. "I've ruined you."

Sam glared at the other teen.

"You're dad doesn't want anything to do with you because he thinks you're a no good coward who wanted to take the easy way out after a petty little fight."

Sam never regretted revealing so much about himself as he did at this moment. But since he felt he couldn't talk to Dean, he had unloaded on the closest person which happened to be the obviously unstable Cooper.

"And your brother thinks you're so fragile, he won't let you out of his sight, even to go to the bathroom."

Coopers laugh rang loud and clear through the clearing.

"And your teachers, your grades?" Cooper was now speaking slowly as if Sam was to dim to understand him. "Your really have no chance of going to your prissy Stanford now."

Sam just stood there taking it all in. Of all the things to happen to him, the one thing that actually made his life a living hell, was actually human. He had long thought the hunt was ruining his life, but this just showed him there was other dangers in the world, even more potent than what lay hidden in the dark.

"Now all I need is for your brother to walk in on this little heart to heart," Cooper said, kicking the werewolf again.

Sam felt his anger rise.

"I saved your life!" he hissed, as he angrily wiped away the blood that was falling into his eyes.

Cooper looked up from the body, to Sam and tilted his head.

"Your loss," he said with a shrug.

"How can you be so flippant about that?" Sam said angrily.

"I guess I just trusted in your innate morality not to let me die," he said. "I was right wasn't I?"

Sam felt the words hit him like a blow to the head.

Suddenly they both heard rustling in the bushes around them.

Cooper immediately froze, revealing the true coward underneath all the bravado.

Sam held out the gun pointing it at the noise. A few seconds later Dean came out into the open.

"He's going to kill himself!" Cooper yelled suddenly.

Sam looked at Cooper in disbelief.

"What?!" Sam exclaimed.

Dean quick raised his hands and slowly walked toward Sam.

"Everything's going to be okay Sam, Just drop the gun," Dean said in his nicest voice.

It only served to irritate Sam, who was fed up with being treated like a mental case, especially since he just learned it wasn't his fault at all.

"He's been like this for the past little while," Cooper shouted, trying to sound helpful. "I've been trying to talk him down-"

"Shut your mouth!" Sam said pointing the gun at the other teen. "Haven't you already ruined my life enough?!"

Anger was taking over Sam's mind and all rational thought was fleeing never to be seen again.

"I should shoot you where you stand for what you've done to me," All Sam could see was red.

"Put down the gun Sam," Dean said, taking a step toward him.

Sam was breathing hard.

"Stay back!" he yelled. It was just starting to get through to his mind.

_He hadn't tried to kill himself._

He fired a warning shot just to the right of Dean, sending his brother diving to the left to get out of the way.

"Sam it's not worth it," Cooper said, sounding every bit the caring friend Dean thought he was. "Things will get better, I promise."

"Stop it!" Sam yelled pointing the gun at the boy. "Stop talking! You did this to me!"

"Sammy!" Dean called out. "Don't you dare shoot him. He has nothing to do with this."

Sammy turned to Dean, tears in his eyes.

"You would chose his side over mine?" he said. "You don't even know what you're talking about. He's a fake. He's responsible for all this. I never tried to kill myself. He did!"

Cooper was trying to use Dean as a distraction to get closer to Sam, but a quick warning shot, stopped him in his tracks.

"You tell him what you did," Sam yelled at Cooper. "Tell him!"

Cooper raised his hands in a show of surrender and looked to Dean.

"I've only been trying to help him. I promise."

"That's not true!" Sam said looking to Dean, "He's lying!"

When Dean did nothing but shake his head, Sam lost the will to fight. He lowered his gun.

"You'd rather believe I tried to off myself," Sam said shakily. "You _want _me to kill myself don't you?"

Dean frowned.

"No!" he said "Of course not! You just need help."

Sam shook his head.

"It's not me that needs help," he said looking at Cooper. "This was your plan all along, huh? Make me kill myself? And then you can play the tragic best friend that tried so hard to save me, but didn't."

"That's not true Sam, I just want to help," Cooper said, his voice full of sincerity. But his eyes told another story.

Dean was falling for the words hook line and sinker, but Sam only rolled his eyes, having seen the true motives behind the kind innocent face.

Sam shook his head, the tears pouring down his face.

"Maybe I should really just put an end to this here," he said pointing the gun at his chin.

"No!" Dean shouted in a panic.

He was now barely restraining himself from running toward Sam and snatching the gun from his fingers.

"Then you and Cooper could be buddies and live happily ever after," Sam said sniffling with a slightly deranged smile on his face. "With a little training, he could be an even better hunter than me. Hunters are always a little crazy anyway."

"That's not true Sam, just put down the gun," Dean said his hands outstretched toward Sam.

He only shook his head and held the gun firmly in place.

"You know Dean, if I really wanted to kill myself, I wouldn't go for a knife, that's just messy," Sam said. "A gun's the only way to go. Boom! And you're gone."

He let out a manic giggle.

Dean looked so helpless, standing there with a desperate look on his face. It made Sam's heart break even more.

"I'm sorry Dean," he said unable to hold back a frown and he started sobbing. "I should never have been this easy to take advantage of."

Dean frowned, doubt in his eyes.

"You're not making any sense Sam," he said taking a step toward his brother.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said sniffling pitifully. "There's no way to prove it if he doesn't admit to what he did."

Sam turned to look at Cooper only to find himself suddenly lying on the ground, the gun torn from his grasp.

"Get help!" Cooper shouted. "I got this!"

Dean seemed frozen in place.

"No," he shook his head, starting into action. "I'm not leaving you two out here."

He started to move toward the two teens, when Cooper suddenly stood up, gun in hand.

"Fine then, if you insist," he said, a hard look on his face.

From his vantage point on the ground, Sam saw what was happening with dread in his heart. He didn't care what happened to himself as long as Dean was okay. He reached out with his long legs and kicked out at Cooper sending him falling to the ground, his gun going off as he fell.

Sam quickly sat and scooted as far away as he could from Cooper, but it wasn't fast enough.

The deranged boy sat up, took aim and fired at Sam, sending a bullet into his shoulder.

Amid the pain filled haze that sent him crashing to ground on his back, Sam was glad to hear the silence that followed, meaning no more shots were fired.

"You should've just left when I told you to, Dean" Cooper said. "Then I would've just killed Sammy here and made it look like a suicide."

Sam was disgusted to hear his fears realized.

"Now I'm going to ruin your good name too," Cooper continued. "Poor Dean, couldn't handle his dear brother's suicide attempt, so he killed dear Sam, then himself, so they could both end the torture of their painful existence."

"What about you?" Sam heard Dean reply.

"I'll just be the poor shocked victim who tried my hardest to save you both," Cooper said. "I'll make the newspapers, the TV news, maybe even write a book about it and get a movie deal."

Sam could only take deep breaths as the pain threatened to overwhelm and send him into the abyss of unconsciousness. As he struggled to stay awake he heard the wind pick up around them.

"Ready, set," Cooper said, "Go!"

Sam heard the sound of a gunshot, followed by the sound of someone dropping to the ground. He tried to move to see what had happened, but the flare of pain that followed left him winded.

Cooper started laughing.

"Go on, keep on dodging" he said. "It only makes it more fun for me. Plus it give me an even more interesting story to tell."

Sam heard Dean curse, then there was another shot.

"Now I can say how Sam shot you first, then you wrestled the gun from him and fatally shot him," Cooper was positively giddy. "Then once you realized what you had done, you shot yourself."

Sam couldn't let that happen. He had to distract Cooper from Dean so his brother could save the day, somehow. He grit his teeth, pressed his hand to his shoulder and struggled to sit up.

"Look who's trying to join the party again?" Cooper said walking to Sam, looking down at him menacingly, gun pointed at Sam's head.

"I have to admit, you two have really spiced up my boring old life," Cooper said, madness glinting in his eyes.

Sam could see Dean laying on the ground not too far away from him, favoring one leg, pain written all over his face.

They needed a miracle and they needed it now.

Suddenly the sound of a gunshot rent the air.

Cooper let out an inhuman scream and dropped the gun at Sam's feet.

Sam frantically looked around to see where the shot came from, only to see his father walk out from the trees.

"Don't you dare threaten my sons," he said, with barely disguised anger dripping from his voice.

"You shot me!" Cooper shouted, cradling his arm to his chest.

"You're lucky I didn't shoot to kill," John snarled, walking up to the shocked teen and knocking him out cold.

Sam was conflicted at the sight of his father. He was relieved he'd shown up in the nick of time, but angry beyond measure at the heartless way the man had treated him.

He decided it was better to give into the pain, rather than face his dad. He fell onto his back, and let the darkness take him.

As the blackness took over his sight, he could vaguely hear a panicked voice yelling his name that sounded like his father. But that was preposterous because the man couldn't possibly care about him. With that last thought, the world completely faded around him.


	11. Chapter 11: Someday came today

**Chapter 11: Someday came today**

Sam sat outside, his back against the wall of their temporary house. The impala and his dad's monster of a truck were parked in front of him. The sun was starting to set. He had a book open in his lap, but he wasn't reading it. Instead, he had his head tilted back against the wall with his eyes closed, just taking in the warm weather.

The world around him was calm and quiet. But inside the house behind him, he could hear movement. His dad and brother were packing up. They were about to leave this town behind and they couldn't wait to do it.

This had been the longest time they'd stayed put in a while. Sam had had the chance to see the seasons switch from spring to summer. It was amazing how much your life could change in just a few months. It was now June and he was a high school graduate. The wounds on his arms were now pale scars that would be with him for the rest of his life. His chest was also a mess. His shirtless days were over at the tender age of 18. He smirked in the sunlight.

He thought of the day he woke up in the hospital.

It was two days after the debacle in the forest. Contrary to his initial thoughts that his wounds weren't enough to kill him, he'd actually died twice on the table. Turned out the combination of emotional trauma and blood loss pushed his body to the limit. But thanks to modern technology, he pulled through.

_Lucky for him_, he thought sarcastically.

The first face he'd seen was his uncharacteristically emotional father. His dad had been about as beside himself as Sam had ever seen. He hadn't shaved in who knows how long and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked absolutely shattered.

When he'd realized Sam was awake he quickly stood.

"Sam," he said softly.

That one word and all the emotion behind it, made tears fall from Sam's eyes. It was amazing how his dad could say so much, while practically saying nothing at all.

It was also amazing how quickly things could turn back to the way they were, back to the fighting, the harsh words, and constant insults and taunts.

Just a week after getting gout of the hospital, he was training once again. His dad seemed to think that getting back to work was the key to a full recovery. Maybe for him, but not for Sam. Soon he was back in school, and catching up on his homework. The schedule drove him crazy, but it kept him busy and allowed him to get away from his overbearing family.

A couple of weeks later dad left on a hunt. It was typical and Sam had seen it coming from a mile away. What he hadn't seen, was Dean leaving to join their dad, a few days later.

The first time he'd seen Dean at the hospital, his brother was full of tearful apologies. There were no upbeat reassurances, no teasing jokes, and no quips about the nurses. Only guilty admissions and heavy silences.

No matter how much Sam told him he forgave him, Dean refused to forgive himself and Sam couldn't live with that. Forgiving didn't mean forgetting, but Dean seemed to think Sam wanted to brush the whole experience under the rug. He constantly was bringing it up. And while Sam wasn't trying to bury the whole thing deep within his mind, it wasn't something he wanted to be reminded about, over and over. He'd explained that, but all it did was dim the light in Dean's eyes every time he looked at Sam.

In one of their less tense interactions, Dean had given him back his knife. It was a long time coming and it helped Sam to feel safer and more like himself.

Meanwhile, Cooper was declared criminally insane and sent to the state hospital.

Sam himself was slowly coming to terms with everything that had happened. He'd accepted the way he felt about his life and how easily he could be tempted to end it all. It was his fatal flaw, but he had hopes it wouldn't always be that way. One thing he knew for sure, was that he was never going to get past this bump in the road, by staying with his family.

Staying would break them apart.

Dad would break his spirit.

Dean would drown him in guilt and he'd never be able to forgive himself for his perceived failure.

And Sam would never be allowed to forget what he had almost done.

He hadn't told Dad or Dean about his intention to let himself die at the hands of the werewolf. They simply thought he was hurt while trying to kill the beast. He knew that if he stayed, somewhere down the road he would be driven to risk his life again. And he might just succeed.

The thought scared him more than he was willing to admit.

With a sad sigh, Sam pushed himself up off the ground. Time was ticking. He walked back inside the dwelling and shut the door behind him.

If someone was standing outside, they would have heard the sound of a breaking glass, loud yelling, and the sound of something being thrown against a wall.

Minutes later the door opened again.

Sam's face was streaked with tears as the door slammed shut behind him. He was now carrying a backpack on his back. In his hands he held a coat and an envelope. It had come from Pastor Jim. Inside was a bus ticket to Palo Alto, California leaving in two hours.

"_If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back!"_

Well Sam had done just that. Now he was on his own. He almost hoped Dean would come running out of the house begging him to stay. But nothing happened. Sam bit his lip as he took one last look at the impala, then started walking.

This could very well be the last time they all saw each other... alive. He knew his absence wouldn't stop his dad and brother from hunting. If anything they would only throw themselves deeper into it. Eventually their luck would run out. And he would probably never know until long after it happened with the nomad lifestyle his family favored.

He looked at the sky and prayed to a God he wasn't sure existed, that his his family would stay safe. And that someday, somehow he'd be able to make things right with them .

Right now, he could see how that would ever happen. All he could do was put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.


End file.
